Journey
by gusmi
Summary: The title "Journey" refers as well to John's and Margaret's honeymoon as to their "journey" into life as a married couple. In accordance to the honymoon theme it's of course a bit on the "lemony" side, so ... enjoy! I wrote this two years ago when I discovered "North & South" in our local library; it's my first try in Fanfiction and I sure hope you'll like it.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Steam hissed along the platform when John took her hand to guide her into their compartment. Althought his mother had knotted her brows in dismay

when they had told her about their intended honeymoon, in this they had had their own way, if in nothing else regarding their marriage. Mrs. Thornton

and Aunt Shaw had seen to it, that everything was handled "seemly" and "properly" and all John and Margaret had done was to say "I do". With their

meekness they'd bribed the tow ladies to let them disappear after their wedding breakfast and now they joined the train, heading for the Seaside, to

spend some days all alone, before on their return John would reopen Marlborough Mills. When Margaret took her seat and John put their belongings in

place their eyes met, like they had done so often on this day, showing clearly their mutual thoughts. „Well", John said with an ironic smile, „I'm not quite

sure Dixon won't jump out of one of the suitcases and straightforward forbid me to sit next to you!". He looked around in the otherwise mercyfully

empty compartment, sighed deeply with relief and let himself plunge to his wife's side. „But", he continued wistfully, „today we will have our own ends,

I should say."

Margaret instantely took in the double meaning and blushed deeply. It seemed that she had been waiting ages for this day to come and she

remembered so well the nights of their short engagement. After returning to Milton she'd stayed with the Watsons, for propriety's sake. When John had

left her there in the evenings, after they'd spent the whole day together, she'd felt torn apart, watching him heading in the night towards Malborough

Mills. She'd lain awake, thinking about him, imagining him lying in his bed – though guiltily - and aching for him to be with her. Well, she couldn't explain

her feelings to herself, but although she was still longing for him she felt – she felt nervous. Tonight there would be no need to part, no need to stop,

and althought she loved this man more than her own life, she felt uneasy. How should she know how to behave? What would he like her to do? What if

he should be disappointed? More than anything else she yearned for his respect – what if she involuntary did something to bold, or something he

considered wanton? Her Aunt Shaw had taken it upon her to talk to her on the evening befor her wedding day and what she'd told her had mainly

been about of wifely duties, the "ways of men" and unpleasentness to be endured for the sake of procreating. When John had held her in his arms

she'd never thought in those terms so far. She'd enjoyed his attentions, something which, accornding to Aunt Shaw, was most unladylike! All that came

to her mind now and so, for the first time in weeks, she felt uneasy in John's company and nervous about the things to come.

John, knowing nothing about the turmoil behind his wife's forehead, stretched out his long limbs and put his arm around her shoulders. But pulling her

towards him he felt her restraint and immediately sensed her distress. He searched her eyes but she avoided his gaze, which alarmed him even more.

„Do you think about your parents?" he asked sympathetically, for he knew how much Margaret must have felt their loss on a day like this. She blushed

again, ashamed of the thoughts that had run across her mind. In her imagination she had let him become Dixon's wild Northerner, this man who had

always loved her so steadily, so gently, so honourable. „What a fool I am to let Dixon and Aunt Shaw get the better of me!" she scolded herself

inwardly. „Even when I disliked him so much I knew him to be trustworthy and honourable. And now as he is my own beloved husband I allow myself

such silly thoughts. I will trust him as I have always done and I know he would never willfully disappoint or hurt me!".

With this conclusion she pulled his arm around her shoulders and nestled her head at its very own restingplace on his broad chest, hearing his steady

and powerful heartbeat. „I thought about them a lot today", she answered his compassionate question, smuggling her own arm behind his back and

under his jacket. She felt the warmth of his body through his waistcoat and spread her fingers to soak it in.

Again and again he felt blessed by her open display of love when she so eagerly seeked his embrace. He took her other hand between his, gently

stroking it. „So did I", he admitted, stroking her fingers. „Do you think they would have been happy for us?" She turned her head upwards to look in his

face. „They married for love, you know. They would have been more than happy to see their own child love a man so worthy." He smiled „I rather would

have taken you from your father's hand than from Maxwell's. To know that such a good friend should have entrusted me with his beloved daughter – I

would have felt very honoured." „Father saw from the very beginning the man I still had to find." „You helped me to become that man, Margaret.

Unwanted as your reasoning with me then had been – what should have become of me without you?". She blushed. „Oh John, I do love you so very

much!" „Margaret", he whispered heatedly, rejoycing in calling her so, „just now you don't want me to show you how much I love you!" He felt the heat

flooding her face and felt guilty for talking to her so boldly. So he kissed her fingertips, apologizing, and kept quiet. Silence enfolded them, the only

sound to be heard the steady rattling of the train and the gentle rustle of his fine cotton shirt where her hand stroked his back.

Just like it had been on their last journey it was John who at least gave in to the monotonous shaking and fell asleep. He had been awake nearly the

whole previous night, his nerves to highly strung to allow him to rest. But now the closeness of Margarets warm and soft body worked like a sedative,

the small and darkening compartement enclosing the two of them like a shell, and he could let go all those fears and worries that had haunted him the

night before. She was his, he was hers – he stretched to find a more comfortable position and let his hand linger on the soft spot of skin just at the

base of her throat. Then Margaret felt him relaxing, felt his whole being come to peace in her embrace. She heard the deep steady rhythm of his breath

and a huge wave of happyness rolled through her whole body. He felt at home with her, he found rest with her ... Her hand began again to slide along

his back, to the sensitive and slender place just beneath his ribs, and back to his spine. In doing so she felt the hem of his shirt. It must have come off

when he had stretched and turned in his seat to make himself comfortable. Her fingers rested there, felt the fabric of the cotton, the seam of the shirt.

A hot stream of desire seemed to float through her body, such an ardent wish to feel his skin, to touch it only once, only with the tips of her fingers. He

seemed so fast asleep, for sure she could try without waking him up. They were all alone, darkness had risen outside and she was his lawful married

wife, wasn't she?

So she tried, touched the bare skin at his waist and was lost in an instant. Her whole hand immediately crept under the shirt, feeling the unbelieveably

soft and warm tenderness of his body. She moved her fingers just so, oh god, his flesh felt so firm, his skin so soft, she never would have believed it.

Her cheeks coloured in the dark when she experienced for the first time what he must have felt all this weeks. Desire stabbed her with such

vehemence, she only wished to let her hand roam freely about his body, sliding around his male waste to his chest, downwards to his flat belly,

upwards to the strong muscles of his arms. She was completely lost to him. Her heart hammered while thoughts raced through her brain. Good

heavens, should he wake up, what must he think of her. But on the other hand this was just to delicious. She dared not move her hand, neither how

she wants nor how she knows she must.

When she had tugged at his shirt John had been wide awake in an instant. First he had thought of a rather too vivid dream, calling himself to order

even in his sleep. But then he had heard her sharp intake of breath and immediately felt her hand creeping at his skin, small, soft and cool where it

came to rest. Her breathing stopped altogether while she moved her fingers ever so slightly, nevertheless sending thunder and lightning through his

whole body. And then, slowly, unwillingly, the hand went off again and he felt her arm sliding gently of behind his back. When he opened his eyes he

saw her sitting with her hands before her face, facing her very own passion, not kindled by his doing but found all by herself only through his then mute

and impassive presence. She wanted him, not only in response to his desire but because of her own. Knowing her character as he did he should have

expected her to be like this, in no way his creature, never only responding, but in all ways just being herself. He said nothing at all but took her face

between his hands and kissed her softly, trying to tell her how he felt. „I love you. You're my equal. I feel what you feel. I want you too." Neither felt a

wish to speak, so they kept their silence, wondering again and again about the power of their love.

In their small and confined shell they sat, twilight engulfing them, lost to time and place. Just when it seemed like their journey was never to end they

felt the train slow down. John took out his fathers watch to take the time and hurried to his feet in astonishment. „Oh Margaret, let's gather our

belongings, for I think we're there at least".


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

The carriage of their hotel was waiting for them in front of the station and took them to the cliffs of the Northern Sea, althought it was far to dark to see

anything of it. When they at least settled in it was nearly eight o'clock and John ordered their dinner. She was happy to have it with him in the privacy

of their rooms but nevertheless she went to their bedchamber to dress for the occasion. A maid of the hotel had already unpacked their trunks and

helped her now to change her robe. With the words „I hear your dinner come in. Just ring if you should need me later, Madam," the young woman left

the room and she joined John at the table. Her fist impulse was to throw herself in his arms, sighing „At least ..", but instead she quite soberly took her

place and picked on her plate.

There it was again, this akwardness of which he seemed to feel nothing, tugging in rather heartily. „When we had the wedding breakfast I couldn't eat

anything, feeling so tense and excited to leave them all for good. I know, this sounds ungrateful, but all I could think about was being alone with you.

Are you very tired from the journey? You seem to have no appetite at all", he observed when she didn't join in the conversation. „Oh no, it was just an

exciting day. But don't let me spoil your dinner. It is very good indeed." „Do you think you will like our stay here?", he asked, looking around the room.

„But John, this is a wonderful place, and besides I would have stayed in a garden shed ... „ her voice faded, but she nevertheless finished the sentence

„... just to have your for myself." He sent his lovely, boyish smile across the table and it proofed irresistible to her like it always did. She simply had to

smile back, feeling somewhat more confident and trying neither to stare at his sensitive hands handling the cutlery nor to think about this wonderful

intimate place she had explored so recently. John felt just this spot burning like he'd been branded with a hot iron and he imagined that her hand could

still be seen there, like a sign that made him her own. She wore one of the new dresses her aunt and cousin had ordered for her trosseau in London,

without Margaret knowing about it, but very much in her taste. This one was a very dark green silk, plainly cut but with a low cut bodice, showing of the

creamy white of her skin and fitting tightly to her voluptous bust.

So he tried hard neither to stare at this promising prospect nor to think about her former ministrations to his body. He cleared his throat and asked

„Shall I ring to have the table cleared? Let's sit down in front of the fire", and shoved back his chair. Bading her his arm he lead her to the sofa in front

of the fireplace, then rung the bell. While the maid shoved around he poured a glass of brandy for himself, sitting at least down next to her, close, but

not to close. Again she clearly wasn't at ease and he sensed her nervousness. The girl left the room and he deliberately took his glass and drank a few

sips. Then he took her hand and kissed it, rather formally. She heard his deep timbre voice while he searched her gaze, still holding her hand.

„Margaret, at this moment in my life there is just one wish left. I want to make you happy. You should always just be yourself, speak your opinion and

do just as you think right. ... Today in the train you gave me more than I could ever have wished for. ... do not hide your face, my love. You showed me

that you want me, body and soul, not only in response to me, but because you feel that way. And you showed me that you wish to trust and share,

your feelings, your pleasure. You are ... „ he hesitated – „an equal, Margaret. A true gentleman." She understood immediately his reference to their

very first talk about this topic and she couldn't believe he should think her so worthy. Her eyes beamed and the sweetest colour rose just from below

her throat.

„On the other hand", he continued, „you are unbelievably beautiful and you are my wife. So I should very much prefer for you to sit much much closer to

me!" and saying so he pulled her near and into his strong embrace. When he felt her hands closing behind his neck he forfeit all decorum and gently

pulled her on his lap. There she snuggled up, her face hidden at his shoulder while he took another sip from his glass. His ease made her feel so

comfortable that she simply indulged in the moment, smelling his body through the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling his hands lying on her back just so.

She even started to wish he would move them. Her fingers found the rim of his collar and she touched the small space of skin between the shirt and his

hair. He reacted by slightly increasing the strength of his embrace. Softly she slid her hands around his neck to his throat, feeling the pulse in his vein

quicken. Immediately she wished to free him from the stiffness of his cravat. She had seen him only twice without it and the thought of his strong neck

being exposed stirred her blood more than she would admit to herself. So she only thought about making him more comfortable and begun tugging at

this annoying piece of cloth, at last loosening the tight knot and taking it of. She dared not to look into her husband's eyes, otherwise she would have

seen his astonishment and delight. He had decided to let Margaret choose the time and way into this last, ultimate intimacy ... and how beguilingly she

did so. In the corner of his eyes he saw her letting the cravate simply slide to the floor, her mind obviously being occupied elsewhere ... This raised his

passion more than any touch could have done. He took a deep breath, changing into an audible sigh when she started to open the first buttons of his

collar. Now she seeked his gaze, stammering: „Oh, I thought you would feel more comfortable, maybe ...", her voice trailing away with insecurity. „I

couldn't imagine feeling more comfortable than just right now, sweetheart.", he answered, trying to keep his tone light, although his veins throbbed

with desire.

With a will of their own his hands started moving up and down her beautiful body, not modestly stopping at her waist but curving down her legs to her

knees. Now it was Margaret who sighed; tugging at the lapels of his shirt she let her head rest just there, on the small place of naked skin exposed.

Her cheek prickled when it touched his chest and again she was astonished that his bare skin should feel so soft. His warm, musky smell made her feel

rather dizzy, and much to her own wonder she felt herself bestowing little kisses at the base of his truly adorable neck. Oh, how her blood thundered in

her ears when his hand pressed her head closer. "God, Margaret", he whispered, his voice nearly a moan. She shivered, her lips still pressed at the

base of his neck. She smelled his slightly salty skin and felt an overwhelming need to taste him. So she opened her mouth just a bit more and started

to suck at his sensitive skin, shocked by her own behaviour but unable to stop. John tingled from head to toe and seriousley started to question his

abilty to set a slow pace, not to frighten his new bride. He touched her foot and closed his hand around her ankle, neatly tugged away under her

petticoats. She was so small, her limbs so fragile, and yet her spirit was so strong and so fearless. He slowly let his hand roam up her leg, feeling the

very thin fabric of her stocking. Margaret didn't stop him, although he felt her become still under his touch. When he reached her garter he instantly

slowed down, allowing only the tips of his sensitive fingers to touch her naked skin. He heard her ragged sigh and turned his head to seek her kiss,

which she returned softly. He didn't dare to move his fingers further up her leg but couldn't stop himself to kiss her more passionatly, open-mouthed,

greedy, tounges entwining. Oh god, she showed no reluctance but gripped his head rather more tightly. With his other hand he cupped her face and

looked straight into her eyes. „Margaret," he groaned hoarsly, „may I help you to get rid of this dress?"

Margaret looked startled. Undressing alone was nearly impossible and for sure she wouldn't call the maid! But letting him undress her? She couldn't

overcome her sense of propriety. He instantly understood that this meant to cross troubled waters and how they had been catapulted back into reality.

Althought she had said nothing so far he tried a suggestion. „Maybe I could do what your maid normally does? Just tell me. Then you could change in

our bedchamber?" Her thoughts raced when she slowly rose from his knees. Her eyes swimming in tears she pleaded „Oh John, don't you think me

silly!" She blushed over and over again. He stood and embraced her, pressing her against him. „Love, how could I?! I want to see you happy and

confident. What should I do?" „If you'll just open the buttons on the back of my dress?" she asekd with a still quavering voice. „And the strings of my …

corset ..." He took a candle from the table and reached out for her hand. „Let's go there", he proposed, „I will do as you tell me and come back when

you're ready." The place at his neck where she'd bitten him itched when he moved. Oh, they would find their way back there, he was sure.

After unbuttoning her dress he bestowed a little kiss on her back, his hands resting on her shoulders. Then he felt for the strings of her corset,

loosening them the way she'd told him. Without touching her again he turned around and left the room. Only in the doorway he looked back over his

shoulder. „Will you call me?", he asked in a pleading voice. „For sure", she whispered, barely audible and without looking around.

He didn't close the door entirely but let it stay ajar, so he heard the rustling of her falling garments, the tingle of her hairpins on the little china plate,

her footsteps when she went to their private bathroom. Her footsteps again, then the creaking of their bed. He stood in front of the fireplace, finishing

his brandy and staring in the flames, now feeling nervous himself. Would he prove to be her true lover? Could he place her pleasure above his own?

She was so sweet, so utterly desireable, how should he check his ardour? His look fell in the looking glass over the fireplace and he saw his

unbuttoned shirt, the flapping collar and the carnation coloured spot where she'd sucked at his skin. Well, he obviously had married a passionate

woman, whatever concessions to propriety she made just now. That proved to be a good start, didn't it?


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

He placed his empty glass on the mantelpiece when he heard her voice. „John? You are still there, aren't you?". Smiling he snuffed the remaining

candles and went to their bedchamber. „Oh my love, you bet!" he answered, his voice as light as possible, closing the door behind him. In the light of

the small fire and the single candle placed at her bedside he just could make out her head on the pillows, the blanket being drawn protectivly under her

chin. Would she, could she be naked? No, he simply couldn't imagine. He began to undress, keeping rather in the shade in the corner of the room,

where a chair was placed. This was awkward, he thought, for he didn't know if she was watching him.

Which she did.

Although feeling guilty Margaret had often imagined his naked body, lean, strong, huge. Especially his slender hips – she didn't know why but her

thoughts sometimes had been rather dominated by those. Whenever she'd lain awake, thinking about him, about his body, his hands, after a while the

sweetest ache began to settle in her lower body. It was just the same when he kissed her and held her close. Once she'd touched herself under the

blankets, to find out about this ache, this yearning, and to her mortification had found herself damp and slick. She'd been afraid to have catched some

illness because or her unseemly thoughts. There had to be a reason why her mother had always insisted in her using a waschcloth when washing

"there". Since then she'd tried to ignore these unseemly feelings.

Now that her eyes had grown accustomed to the twilight, she saw her husband taking of his jacket, the waistcoat, his shirt. She involuntary shivered

when this went of and the ache in her abdomen intensified. Surley wifes weren't suppose to be so affected by the sights of their husbands bodies. Her

eyes followed John to the bathroom, eagerly resting at the closed door and waiting for his return. When he strode back to his chair she sensed his

male, fresh smell, adding to her excitement. Off went his shoes, the socks, and, after short hesitation, his pair of trousers. There he stood, only in is

small clothes, looking so perfect, so utterly loveable and – kind of vulnerable too. Could he be nervous, too? Her own beloved husband – how she

longed for him.

John sat down on the edge of his bedside and akwardly took of his very last garments. God, how he longed for her. But he wouldn't hurry things. He

wouldn't push her. She was his new bride, innocent and inexperienced. She'd eagerly joined him so far but this must be a huge step for her. Hell, it was

a huge step for him! No, she would set the pace, come what may. So he felt for his nightshirt, just then hearing her voice, strained with emotion,

shame, desire: „John! I so long to touch your skin." Ahhh. Every further thought about proper dressing entirely abandoned, John thrusted his long legs

under the blankets and felt for his wife, only to find her wrapped in a nightgown of thin muslin. Well, when undressing herself it seemed she'd lacked

the courage to overcome her maidenly inhibitions.

He took both her hands between his own, delicately kissing the tips of her fingers and then placed her arms round his neck. „Margaret, I ..." he

stammered, but she pulled his head close, stiffling his unspoken words with a kiss. He stretched out his arms, encircling her and drawing her nearer,

nearer, closer, closer, while his hands started roaming her body. From her small waist up her spine to her shoulders and then slowly, slowly

downwards, for the first time feeling unhindered the true contures of her body. Feeling her slender form, the small of her back, her tights, her calves,

touching, caressing, stroking, gliding over the thin fabric of her nightgown till at last he reached its hem, touched her skin. Here he hesitated, his blood

thundering in his ears. But her only reaction was a deep sigh, so softly, gently, his hands roamed upwards again, pushing the annoying shirt just the

same way. Upwards, upwards, taking in her womanly hips and, fanning out, even touching her perfectly rounded derriere. His errection throbbed

painfully and although he knew that it was considered highly improper, he wished nothing more but that she would allow him to remove the gown.

Softly he pushed it up some further, but didn't dare to bare her breasts. He let his finger wander upwards, where he clearly felt her nippels under the

fabric, straining and errect. When he stopped moving Margaret became busy. "Oh John, John, you're so … you're so … beautiful. I know, I'm not

supposed to say so, but love, it's so wonderful to touch you." Her hands had reached his hips while whispering this in his ear. "Ah, Margaret. God." He

pushed the nightgown further up and Margaret lifted her body, so that he could free her from her garment, tossing it on the floor. When she sank back

into the pillows he took in the sight of her swelling breasts in the dim light, their tips stiff with desire. He had to touch them, he must. His eyes searched

her gaze for permission but she kept her lids closed and turned her face away. So his head sunk down, pulled by invisible strings, and he buried his

face in the unbelievably creamy softness of her breasts, all his being reduced to touching, smelling, caressing. When his mouth found their stiff peaks

she hid her face behind her hands, but she didn't stop him, breathing even deeper and moaning audible when he bestowed little kisses and even bites

on them. All the time he had to check his ardent desire, his urgent wish to posess her at last. This should be HER delight, her reward for all the trust

and passion she had already given to him. Margarets hands flew to his head, pulling his hair, massaging his neck, seeking the intimacy of a kiss in

which he joined passionately. It would never do to make her feel uneasy or to hurt her, so he had to be sure that she was really ready to receive him.

But he felt for sure that he couldn't stand it much longer. She was far too sweet, to tempting.

John's fingers traced their way down between her breasts, over her soft, slightly rounded belly, to the centre of all the heat, turmoil and unspeakable,

even unthinkable feelings he evoked within her. Margaret's whole body arched up and she opened her eyes, knowing that he would be watching her

face. When he reached her soft curls she felt the same wetness she'd once found there herself. Mortified, she went stiff and started to turn away from

him. "Margaret, why … love, no, what's wrong? Please, Margaret, talk to me." His voice was so hoarse, so pleading, kind of hurt, too. He didin't seem to

be repelled by her body's unseemly reactions. "John, I … what …" Her voice faltered. "What is it, dearest? Did I hurt you. Oh god, love, I never …" "No!

No, it's .. I can't … Why? Why I am all wet? You must be revolted." His hands cupped her face and he cleared his throat. She refused to meet his eyes

and resisted his touch but he held her face and brought his mouth close to hers. "Dearest, that is …it is for me. It is so you can … receive me. You know

what is going to happen between us, don't you?" His voice faltered. "Don't you want me?" Margaret's eyes flew open. "John, no. Of course I want you.

It's just … I don't know what to do. I don't know what to expect, how to behave. I don't want to disappoint you." Tears filled her eyes and spilled over.

John kissed them away. "Margaret. You could never do that. You're perfect. I love you. I want to earn the trust you showed me. I will do nothing that

distresses you. I apologize." Barely audible he heard her whisper "But what you did so far felt wonderful." "Kiss me, love", John rejoyced. "Please,

touch me again." Hesitantly her fingers touched his face, traced to his mouth, then to his nape. John was uncertain how to approach further. How much

did his bride really know about marital relations? "I want to hold you close, love. May I?" Hesitantly Margaret turned fully back in her husband's

embrace. Her head rested on his arm and fell back, exposing her neck and John took the opportunity to rest on his elbow and return her favour from

before. He started to kiss and suck her there and it seemed that she enjoyed that just as much as he had for she sighed a prolonged

"Mmmmmmhhhh!" Now that he knew how slick and ready she was for him it was even harder to reign himself in. She had resumed her petting and

caressing, too, and because they were so closely entwined his member poked bluntley into her side. He felt her petting hand reach his hip again and

Margaret turned on her side, facing him and – did he imagine that?! – pulling and – ahhhhh – rubbing against him slightly. Instinct took over and at last

he rolled over, on top of her, keeping his weight on his ellbows in his anxiety to crush or hurt her. But Margaret seemed to feel nothing of this fear, for

her hands now roamed freely on his backside, pressing him even closer, every stroke sucking the blood from his brain and pooling it in his nether

regions. They kissed, they panted, they sighed, they kissed and he felt her legs slowly give way, cradling him at her center. "Love, this may hurt. I want

you to tell me if you can't bear it, do you hear me?!" With that John gently pushed and slid into her. She opened to him like the sweetest, honeyed fruit

and he slowly tried his way into her tight virgin flesh. When they both felt the obstacle of her maidenhood he forced himself to stop and opened his

eyes to search her face for signs of discomfort or hurt. "Margaret …" he whispered. She looked at him and in her eyes he found nothing but trust, love

and passion. "Make me yours, John" she panted, her hands pressing on his buttocks and he couldn't withstand any longer and pushed on. Margaret bit

his shoulder when she felt him taking her completely, but she didn't stop moving her hips nor loosened her firm hold on his body. He tried to

concentrate by watching her sweet face, but she had closed her eyes again and so did he, helplessly, overpowered by desire. "Ah, god, Margaret!" He

couldn't stop moving but tried to do so slowly, to take his time and give her some space to accommodate. With each long stroke he heard her moans

and sighs more distinctly, felt her react to his lovemaking, till eventually she climaxed in his arms, crying out his name. „Oh, John!" This instantly sent

him over the top, too. He felt his whole being respond to those two words, his drumming heart missing a beat, and came deep inside her.

Without any further movement they clung to each other, speechless, completely overtaken, the world around them simply shut out. His head rested at

her neck, her cheek pressed on his damp hair. They felt their hearts racing, their senses slowly recovering. When Margaret felt that John moved his

head she opened her eyes to study his face and found it all: tenderness, astonishment, love, gratitude and sheer delight. His mouth twisted in his

lovely but this time also slightly anxious smile and he murmured: „Well?!"

Tears started to dwell in her eyes while she cupped his face between her hands, bringing it even closer to her sweet countenance. „John, I felt … the

earth move – will it always be like that?". Fighting against the strong lump building in his throat he cleared his voice, speaking huskily: „I dare not

imagine it, my love. To start our married life like that has bee a great gift indeed."

At least they rested side by side, facing each other, saying all the little things that true lovers do, exchanging soft and satisfied kisses, again and again

touching and stroking all those newly found places of intimacy and delight until they snuggled up and fell in the deep and dreamless sleep of complete

satisfaction.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The next morning Margaret was the first to awake, shivering, for the fire in the grate had long since died and her nightgown lay still somewhere out of

sight. She moved closer to her still sleeping husband, taking care not to wake him up. When she studied his peaceful, relaxed face a huge wave of

happiness and gratitude built up in her breast. She still couldn't believe that this should only be the first day to wake up with him, the first of many days

to come. When she thought about last nights proceedings – which she did immediately after seeing his long, strong arms on the blanket – she felt no

shame or resentment at all. How often, when their gaze had met, she had wished nothing else but to slip inside him, to be one body and one soul. And

now she knew that it really could happen. Being one flesh as well as one soul – short as the moment might has been in reality, it had felt like eternity.

She just wondered if she might slip into his arms unnoticed when his eyelids blinked and he drew her into his embrace with a deep sigh. „So this is

really true"", he murmured, his words muffled into her tousled hair, and then, with his lovely smile coming up, „ ... and a very good morning to you,

wife." She too smiled, seeking his face and slipping her naked arms around his neck. „Good morning, husband mine." She felt the heat emerging from

his skin and moved even closer against him. How delicious this was, each inch of her body somewhere touching John's, feeling his warmth slowly

seeping through her skin, just indulging in the moment.

John found it harder to feel relaxed. He didn't want to offend her with his rather obvious morning arousal and kept shuffling around, trying to keep it

out of contact. On the other hand he of course wished to be in contact as close as possible, his hands taking in every minute detail of her body, slowly

stroking and caressing her. The first morning light crept through the closed curtains and he longed to drew back the blanket and to see what he now

just felt. Had she modestly averted her gaze when he undressed last night? His hand cupped the perfect swell of her breast, so soft and yet firm, her

skin feeling like silk. He followed its form with his fingers, sliding to its now crisp and errect center like iron to a magnet. Should he just ask her? She

looked so serene, so at home, he dared not to disturb the moment. „Well ..." she whispered, „... as we couldn't part without kissing good night ...

shouldn't we kiss good morning as well?" „Rules is rules, sweetheart!" he smiled and bade her his lips. Margaret hesitated. How she loved this

sensitive mouth. She'd seen it so often compressed in anger or sorrow and yet knew it to be capable of such tenderness, such passion and the

sweetest of all smiles. Her finger traced John's lips, then moved to his now stubbly cheek. Gently she pulled his face close, never averting her eyes, her

lips already parted. Their mouths met, just the tips of their tongues touching, probing and then entwining ... Oh this unbelievable sweetness! She felt

like her heart was glued to his. She was lost to this man, for better, for worse, she simply couldn't resist. In this moment of complete intimacy John

simply forgot to take further care of their body contact, so Margaret felt rather distinctly that her husband wanted her as much as she wanted him. His

muscles moved under her touch and she remembered his naked body in the light of the fire. This heightened her passion even more and she

impatiently rustled the sheets to see more of him. Again forgetting all her sense of propriety she knelt in the bed to have both her hands free, pushing

down the blanket while her hands slid along his chest to this delicious place just above his hips. Although this was exciting she dared not going further,

when she suddenly realized that John could very well see every part of her!

Which he did! He stared at his wife in amazement and Margaret instantly went crimson from head to toe. But then she realized that he was stunned by

the prospect and not at all by her behaviour. „You're so beautiful ...", his voice sounded hoarse with passion and he also sat up, his hands having to

touch what was offered to his eyes so freely. He pulled her close on his lap, stroking and kissing her body gently into the sweetest submission, till at

least she closed her arms and legs behind his back, sighing. His mouth found her neck ... her breasts - and her head dropped back helplessly, her hand

stiffling a moan. Their bodies cried for fulfilment, so they joined there and then, giving Margaret a somewhat clearer impression of how this was

achieved. When she had slowly lowered down on him all her instincts forced her to move, but John gripped her hips with both his hands, keeping them

still. „Wait, my love, wait", he groaned, desperately trying to focus on something else but his bewitching wife and her undertakings. Thumped on the

ground from the heights of passion Margaret went instantly as still as a statue. Her hands closed before her face in despair. Oh, what had she done!

Whenever she was with John she seemed to forget all the laws of propriety and her situation right now – she refused even to think about it!

John inwardly cursed himself for his want of self restriction. Letting his strong arms slide upwards he pulled her as close as possible, cradling her still

hidden face at his shoulder. „Please, Margaret, embrace me again. I long so for your touch. You did nothing wrong, please, my love, lay your arms

around me. It seems that I can't live any longer without your embrace". Slowly, uncertain, her arms slipped around his neck, but she still didn't move

otherwise. He brought his mouth close to her ear, finding it difficult to speak to her about these things „My heart, I want us to reach our ... heights of

passion ... together. But you're so sweet, so intoxicating, so beautiful, that my body tries to get the better of me. This was far too delicious, should you

have moved only once more I couldn't have waited any longer. I'm simply lost to you. Can you forgive me for behaving so clumsily just now? Please,

Margaret, look at me." But she kept her head averted. His hands stroked her fingers in despair while he whispered on „My sweet, my beloved Margaret.

Please, let me kiss and comfort you. I love you so much, don't be angry with me." „Angry?! How could I be angry with you!" Her eyes sparkled in their

old, stubborn way. „I'm always afraid that you'd disapprove of my conduct … about ... me ..." Her voice faded. „Disapprove?! I never would have dared

to dream how wonderful it would be to share your bed! I never should want anything else! But I simply have to reign me in. I'll not leave you

disappointed", he added ruefully. Then he kissed her eyes, her face, his lips creeping softly down to hers, all the while murmuring little reassuring

words of love and desire. When he at least found her mouth their passion was rekindled in an instant, further heated by his fingers tracing down to the

small of her back, sending sparks of excitement down her spine. Her hips again found a rhythm of their own while she felt his strong hands holding her

just there.

Margaret felt loosing all control over her own actions. She couldn't part with his mouth while her body melted completely in waves of passion. Steadily

increasing the pace of her movements she felt a hot stream of such lust that she had to threw back her head, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

Unfortunately John chose just this moment to open his eyes, seeing his wife's beautiful face glowing, her body arching up with passion, her breasts

proud and erect direct before him. This picture alone would have been enough to shatter the best mans intentions, not to mention the amount of

pleasure this Amazone bestowed on him. He groaned, buried his face at her bosom and felt convulsion after convulsion, shaking his body to the bones.

Margaret this time was conscious of him throbbing and pulsating inside her, his face strained with passion. Sharing this was so intimate, she couldn't

avert her eyes and was instantly carried along with him to her own release.

Recovering his senses John felt like there was no oxygen left for his brain, making proper thinking simply impossible. Whenever he had dared to imagine

sharing a bed with Margaret, he'd never crossed the line of delicious but mute activities strictly between the sheets. Here he was, married for not

twenty-four hours, sheets, well, must be somewhere for sure and regarding the volume of their lovemaking he was rather glad that there was a living

room between the bedchamber and the hotel floor. He would never stop wondering about this woman he'd married, this woman who was so utterly

different from her kind. He heard her breath becoming more regular again and felt her limbs relaxing around his body. Her back was damp with sweat

and he suddenly felt the freshness of the room, so he simply let himself fall sideways, taking her with him, and felt for the blanked to pull it over them.

„Mmmhh", she sighed, seeking his gaze. „John, I never could have imagined anything like this. Are you sure this is what all married couples do?" He

grinned, then hesitated. Searching for the right words he at least said „Well, it seems to me that our marriage tends to be a rather passionate one. Of

what I could say after this short time ..." And then adding, forgetting all caution „ ... my sweet Amazone ...". Like he'd forseen she blushed instantly.

„But you ... you always force me to behave ... like that. You didn't give the impression of being offended, you know!" she answered accusingly. „Indeed

I'm not. Not at all." His voice became a whisper again „I love you. And I feel very much loved and wanted by you. I can not imagine any man on earth

wanting more than what you give me." She kissed him, sighed and rolled on her back, keeping his wonderful male hand at her cheek. It smelled like ...

just like ... like John. Again she sighed, for in their silence she heard the rest of the house come to life. She didn't feel like washing or dressing or

getting up at all, but she distinctly felt like breakfast. „Are you hungry?" she asked, biting his fingertips playfully. „It seems strange but I rather am. Not

very romantic, I'm afraid." „Well", she took the advantage of teasing him for once, „haven't you worked hard for your breakfast?" And giggling she

pulled the blanket over her face.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

„I shall ring for hot water and the fires taken care of", he announced with as much dignity as he could summon in the circumstances. „While I'm in the

bed with you – and without my nightdress?!" „I will ask for the water first. Then you could slip in the bathroom while the maid's bustling about here."

When he saw Margaret's still horrified face he took her in his arms once more. „Margaret, we're neither the first nor the only married couple in this

hotel, so the staff must expect finding people in their beds, don't you think?" But she only drew the blanket back over her head, speaking in a rather

muffled voice „Will you please toss my shirt?". So he stood up, slipped in his nightshirt and dressing gown, threw Margaret's nightdress accurately

aimed at her head, went in the living room and rang the bell. He ordered the water, fires and their breakfast and watched the maids preparing the

bathroom for the still invisible Margaret. Then he sent them in the front room to give her some time to reach the bathroom undisturbed.

When she'd hurried there his gaze fell on their bed and he felt the blood rushing to his face. Good heavens, it would never do to let his sensitive wife

see this mess. In their ecstacy they hadn't taken care of anything and he saw stains of Margaret's virgin blood mingled with the unmistakeable traces

of their lovemaking. He went back to the other room, his only thoughts being how to protect Margaret's feelings. His voice sounded rather stern when

he addressed the girl „Before you do anything else, please change the sheets in our room. My wife is still in the bathroom so hurry up, will you.". She

answered „Very well, Sir, I'm just going to fetch the linen," without showing any further emotion and left him musing how other couples solved this

problem. Again he stared at their bed and again he could just wonder about what had happened there so far. He heard Margaret splashing behind the

closed door and wished he could join her. But joining a lady in her bath was something so utterly unthinkable that even he couldn't imagine ever doing

so. He took care to leave the bedroom before the maid returned, for he didn't want to see her face when she took in the reasons for his request. The

second girl cleaned the grate and lit the fire so now there was only the front room to be taken care of. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his cravat

still lying in front of the couch and he went there to fetch it. What shameless libertines they must seem to be ...

A warm flood of blood rushed through his face when he thought about the sweet moment the cravat had come off. Margaret. How much he loved her!

He only had to think about her and a soft hand clutched his very heart, making it miss a beat. Again he thought about her in the bathroom. This was

rather annoying, ones thoughts being so preoccupied. He shook his head and took a look in the bedroom, only to oversee the maids exchanging

knowing glances over their now restored bed. „Are you ready then?" he asked sharply and they nodded, suddenly busy to leave the room. „Then send

a lady's maid for my wife, will you!" he demanded and knocked softly on the bathroom door. Out she came, properly dressed in her small clothes and

dressing gown. He smelled her feminine soap and her delicate perfume and felt happy to see her like that, in a stage between the passionate

temptress and the perfect lady he knew by now. The maid knocked and now it was his turn to vanish in the bathroom, not even having time to bestow

a kiss on his wife. The patent stove still held enough hot water for a second bath, so he opened the taps. While the water was running he undressed

and shaved in front of the looking glass, seeing the unmistakeable marks of Margaret's passion in more than one place. Again he blushed, gently

touching the dark red spot at his neck. Well, it would be well hidden behind his collar and cravat.

Although Margaret was talking to the maid about her dress she kept her ears pricked to hear John shoving around in the bathroom. Could all this really

have happened? She had felt drawn to him from the very beginning, and arguing with him had sometimes only been a substitute for flying into his

arms; she knew that by now. But how upbringing and manners and the laws of society had always separated them! Even when they eventually had

declared their love they hadn't been allowed to show their feelings. And now they were married they had to sneak around as well, even in their private

rooms, hiding their true feelings in front of the servants. ... The more layers of clothes the maid bestowed on her the more she felt dragged back into

convention. When the last hairpin had found its place in her chignon she felt like she'd been bound in chains. She had longed to join John in the

bathroom. To see him do something as private as shaving. To see what changed her relaxed and smiling lover into the stiff, sharp master she had seen

so often.

When they were alone she could just be herself. He brought out what she really was. She felt whole with him. How would it feel to be his wife in

society? How should they hide their deep attraction to each other? The maid broke her train of thoughts: „Is everything to your wishes, Madam?".

Margaret looked in the mirror. „Yes, thank you," she answered absent minded, for to her utter astonishment she saw just yesterdays old Margaret,

betraying nothing of her recent experiences. Deep in her own thoughts she wandered into the front room, looking out of the great window on the

glistening shores of the Sea.

When John entered the room it was evident that Margaret hadn't noticed him. He watched her from head to toes; this was the woman he'd known, the

woman he'd fallen in love with. But now he knew more. He knew how she looked without that dress. How could he forget? How should he behave?

Convention forbade even to hold her hand in public. He'd thought once they were married things simply would sort themselves out. He'd imagined once

this fierce desire had been satisfied they could move easily in company. But now he realized that they wouldn't. He was drawn to her apart from

passion. He wished to be close to her even when he'd just left their bed. He felt whole in her company. But being married or not, treating Margaret like

he wished to would expose them to the gossip of their servants. And through their mouths make them the tittle-tuttle of Milton. His steps lead him to

his wife all by themselves while he mused about their future. He stopped just behind her, cradled her in his arms, and put his head on her shoulder. Her

smell alone was enough to let his hands tremble. She leaned against him, touching his now smooth cheek and then fastening her hands above his. So

they stood, without a word, like under a spell.

It was a knock on the door that brought them back into time and place and and they immediately parted. „Your breakfast, Sir", the maid announced, do

you need anything else?" „No, thank you. You can leave".They would have their privacy whenever it was possible and Margaret poured the tea and

reached John his cup. This time he deliberately touched her fingers, seeking his wife's eyes. „I touched your fingers when you gave me my cup the very

first time I had tea with your parents. Already then I felt little sparks moving between us, although I never would have admitted it". „I only remember

how angry I always was with you – and how badly I behaved". They indulged in their breakfast, all alone, able to speak their minds. „Margaret, I

thought about home – about our house I mean. Don't you think it would be nice if we could have a small sitting room for ourselves? May be in front of

our bedchamber? We could use the corner room on the first floor as a bedroom and kind of build our private sitting room around it. Even with a small

bathroom, if this was possible. I think this rooms here are very convenient if one cares for their privacy". „But do you think your mother would approve?

She'll think I'll take you from her if we don't keep her company. And she will think your house just good enough the way it is". „But shouldn't you like to

do some furnishing yourself? I preferred your living room very much to ours, I have to admit. You should make the house your home too – our home,

Margaret". „But your mother will be there too. It is her house already". „Of course it is. But honestly – now that we are married I don't want to steal my

time with you from my mother or the servants, the way we had to do in the last weeks. Our home should be the place where we can behave the way

we choose – without making amendments to convention". His voice became a whisper. „We are very much in love, Margaret. Let us find room for that".

Margaret looked at him in utter astonishment. Had he read her thoughts? „Well, if you will speak to your mother – we'll see what she has to say. But

please John, my start as daughter in law has been bad enough – don't let us make things even worse by changing the whole household as soon as

we're home." His mouth set to that rather stubborn look that immediately let her temper rise. „She already knows that you are and will always be the

very first in my affections. I will not sacrifice our few possibilities of privacy for the sake of my mother". „But John"! Now her voice rose. This was the kind

of overbearing behaviour they'd fight over more than once, she was sure. Couldn't he see that this first weeks would decide about the peace in their

home in all the years to come? „I should not be the one to bring quarrel and conflicts in your home". Her voice softened. „Haven't we just found a world

for us alone"? She didn't dare lifting her eyes from her plate. He shook his head in wonder „An utterly wonderful, amazing world, Margaret. But don't

you think it will be nearly impossible to keep this world for us alone? Back in Milton, back in our house? My only sanctuary is my study. Now one dares to

disturb me there. Let's find a sanctuary for the two of us. My love, I'm afraid I can not hide my feelings for you. And I should always want you to show

me yours. So let's build a safe place to live and love or we'll make ourselves ridiculos." She reached out for his hand. It made her shiver when he spoke

so openly about his feelings for her. The moment he took it their fingers entwined. „John, I love you. And you're right in what you proposed. ... See, I

can hardly be ten minutes without your touch ... I'll have to be on my guard the moment we'll leave this room". „Should we leave it nevertheless and

take a stroll to the promenade? It looks like it's going to be a gorgeous day for the seaside. And I long to see if it's changed very much". „In the last

fifteen years or so"?! Margaret laughed. „Be prepared, John, it might have changed as much as you did".

And how right she was! Nothing seemed to be like he remembered from that last childhood holiday with his father. They strolled through the streets,

she walking proudly at his arm, and found a city bustling with visitors, without a trace of the small fishing village of former times. At least they took a

refreshment on the sundappled terrace of one of the hotels, sitting under a parasole and watching the promenade and the beach. The sun burnt from

the sky, but only children could be seen splashing around in the water. Margaret started to feel hot although she wore a thin summer dress and sat in

the shade. „I can not imagine what all this water should be good for if one's not allowed to go in and refresh oneself," she muttered, thinking of her

last holiday at the seaside with the Lennoxes. „Well, I used to swim here all this years ago. I befriended the son of one of the fishermen and one day

he took us out with him to a small bay where we played we were Captain Cook, discovering Botany Bay." She smiled, thinking of her own childhood in

Helstone, the warm summer sun burning down on her then mercifully naked legs, and sighed. „At least I was allowed to wear no stockings in summer

as a child – but I've never been in the sea". „You're looking rather hot. Should we go back? The breakfast fires will have burned out long since and the

girls will have opened the windows, so by now it will be cooler than outside". „Oh yes, Frederick wrote in one of his last letters of the Spanish custom to

take a nap between one and four. It's called ‚Siesta' and all the streets are dead and empty. Can you imagine something like that in Milton?" Both saw

the busy streets of Milton, where everyone was always occupied in one or the other way and idlers hardly to be seen. He smiled „No, but for now let's

simply pretend we were in Cadiz". And with this words he bade her his arm and lead her back to their hotel.

Their rooms were cooler for sure and Margaret went instantly in the bathroom to refresh herself, leaving her husband musing in the sitting room. When

she came back he addressed her: „I forgot something and will quickly run back to town. Will you have some rest meanwhile? Should I send for the

maid? I'll be back in no time". First Margaret was disappointed that he should leave her alone without giving further explanations but then she really

felt a bit tired and if he should be back soon ... So she answered „Well, yes, I am a bit sleepy", blushing for they both knew the reason for this. „It must

be the sea air ...," John smiled and then hurriedly left the room.

While his wife fell asleep in an instant he went straight to the older part of the town where still some fishing huts and nets could be seen. He found the

one he'd been looking out for and greeted the inhabitant, a young man of his own age, with a handshake. They talked and laughed for a while and

John went back to the hotel, looking rather pleased with himself.

The living room looked empty and deserted, so he stole into their bedchamber, finding his wife fast asleep. Would she welcome him if he should join

their bed ... or would it be more appropriate to let her sleep? Well, she'd welcomed him twice already. He was a beast to think of nothing else but her

... lush ... soft ... exciting body. So he just took of his jacket and waistcoat and went in the bathroom to refresh himself. Coming back he took in all the

signs of her presence in the room, things that from now on should accompany him for the rest of his life. He saw her boots, neatly placed next to the

door, her dress, hung out by the maid, on a chair her petticoats and the corset, and her chemise. In front of that mirror she would have undressed ...

he immediately felt his body answer to this rather fetching imagination. Trying to shake it of he looked at his side of the bed, seeing out of the corner of

his eye ... her nightdress. If it laid neglected at the foot of her bed she couldn't possibly be wearing it at the same time. Which meant that she wouldn't

be wearing ... anything at all. He decided to take this as an invitation for good and hurriedly jumped out of his clothes. The bed creaked when he crept

under the covers and she immediately turned around, smiling sleepily but ... fetchingly, her naked arm and shoulder showing above the blanket.

„Margaret ... „ was everything he could pant, his throat feeling choked by her beauty. „John. Dearest John! I think I dreamt about you. And now I open

my eyes and you're there. I'll never get used to it". „Once you'll open your eyes and think ‚Oh no, it's still him'!" he teased her. „If you speak nonsense

you shouldn't speak at all"! And with this exclamation she shut his mouth with her kiss.

So they spend their afternoon, kissing, touching, exploring, learning the contures of their bodies like the lines upon a map. Their desire had lost

something of its urgency, so they took their time and enjoyed soft, gentle afternoon love, slowly drifting along on the waves of passion. Both felt secure

and relaxed with the other and while Margaret lost nearly all her fears of behaving not ladylike enough, John on the other hand wasn't so anxious any

more to offend her delicate feelings. When Margaret eventually opened her trembling legs to her husbands caressing hands, both felt a new dimension

of intimacy, a trust that only love would grant, a bond much deeper routed than through the mere exchange of pleasure. Although she couldn't

overcome herself to touch him in return, which simply seemed to bold a gesture, Margaret told him when she at least longed to receive him. Those

whispered words alone, spoken by his beloved wife, spurned John's passion beyond measure. When they reached fulfilment he felt like his whole being

was melting, soaking into her, body and soul. Everything he wished for was to indulge in this feeling, to stay with her like that. Without opening his

eyes he started fluttering little kisses on her face, tasting the salt of tears on his lips. He caressed and kissed them away, unable to whisper anything

else but „My love. My only one ...". Then a new thought shot through his still misty brain. Maybe this has been too much, maybe he'd hurt her, being

with her that often ... „Oh God, you're not hurt, are you! Margaret"! But she smiled behind her veil of tears. „I'm fine. I'm just ... overwhelmed. What is

this, you're doing to me? I feel so complete, so entirely yours. Is it the same for you"? „Just so!" He kissed her again, so gently, trying to show her all

that he felt in this one kiss. She sighed, again and again seeking his mouth and the all consuming love in his startling blue eyes.

„John", she inquired after a while of musing, „may I beg a favour of you"? „Of course"! She averted his eyes. „Won't you be my maid this afternoon?

Somehow I do not feel like facing the girls". He smiled ruefully. „Me neither. Of course I will, if you think I can manage ... and Margaret ... please, don't

be offended, but I think we should take care of the linnen this time!" „The linnen"?! Helplessly she looked around. This time it was his turn to blush all

over and to flee her gaze. „Yes. You see, this ... stickiness ... I do that. And I do not feel like facing the girls too. So let me just try to ... avoid any traces

on the sheets". She just managed to nod. What they shared in matrimony was one of God's greatest blessings for sure – but it contained a lot of the

most unforseen difficulties too.

Somehow they managed to disentangle and to leave the bed for good, eventually standing in front of it, both naked in the blazing sunlight. He took her

in from head to toe. She looked at him in his full length. Then she took both his hands, again on the brink of tears. „Let's never forget this afternoon,

John. This feels ... precious ... Let's promise". „I do", he answered, just like renewing his wedding vows in a deeper understanding.

After many doubts on Margaret's side if this task should ever be accomplished, both were at least clothed again and went for tea in the garden of the

hotel. Lazily they studied the leaflets informing over the evening's events and decided to attend a concert and have a late dinner. After doing

something so respectable like having one's tea Margaret even was able to call the maid again for dressing in her evening robe. While the girl was busily

engaged she nearly giggled, imaging John handling this innumerable buttons, bows, hems, petticoats and hairpins. Although she didn't know it her

faced glowed from deep and satisfied love and when at least the maid saw her sweet countenance in the mirror, she couldn't help herself but say

„Excuse me, Madam, but you're looking very lovely indeed."

John sighed deeply when he saw her so elegantly attired, thinking that if he wasn't already head over heels in love with this woman, he should fall for

her right now. When Margaret rearranged his cravat she felt married for the very first time, having seen her mother doing ever so often just the same

for her father. But when she thought about the marks just this cravat was hiding, she instantly blushed and refused to think of her parents

furthermore.

Both enjoyed the exquisite concert, although being aware of many a look from other guests to the handsome and obviously very attached young

couple. They took their dinner in a small restaurant, drinking a glass of champagne to resume this very first whole day as husband and wife. Margaret

was rather thankful that she could rest on John's arm when walking home, for she felt dizzy after the champagne and her arms and legs seemed

unnaturally heavy. At the hotel she instantly wanted to undress, so John sipped his brandy in the front room till the maid left them and his wife joined

him again on the sofa in front of the fireplace. She was already in her nightshirt and dressing gown and wore her hair open, which let her look much

younger than she was. „You're looking tired. Should we go to bed?" he asked. But she knelt on the sofa, taking of his cravat and opening his shirt. „No,

let's just rest here for a little while. Would you mind if I'd sit on your knees again? Can you still reach your glass"? He opened his arms and she slipped

on his lap, cradling against his chest, her head dropping at his shoulder. He held her just so, both feeling no desire to talk but just to sit there and

enjoy each others company. Now and then he took a sip from his glass, always resting his arms around her slender form again. Margaret closed her

eyes and took in the unmistakeable smell of her husband. This was John, he was close, his body warm, and she could hear the steady rhythm of his

heartbeat just beneath her head. She felt his hands, gently stroking her back, and her own little hand slid under his shirt to rest there. She would

simply stay with him. Always. Forever. And with this thoughts she fell asleep.

John felt her relax and heard her deep and steady breath. He settled down more comfortably and decided to sit with his wife like that just a little bit

longer. She'd fallen asleep on his lap! Since they had mounted the train he had been in a constant state of amazement or wonder or, so he had to

admit, utter delight. It seemed to him that in this last twenty-four hours he'd learned and understood more than in the last ten years of his life. And this

unbelievable woman, she simply snuggled up on his knees like a kitten and fell asleep! After all this months of misunderstandings, of unreturned and

unfulfilled love, of differences between a man and a woman, a manufacturer and an accomplished lady, a son of the North and a daughter of the South,

a groom and his bride, it seemed that she'd at least found her place in this complicated net of relations. She'd accepted that she loved him and decided

to trust him and now she was at ease. And whenever HE tried to think about it, about the feelings that bound him to her, for better, for worse, about

their future when they would be at home again, it seemed like a haze was lowering on his brain, making any logical thought simply impossible. He

wanted her. He needed her. He loved her more than his own life. It always came to that in the end. He knew that their life would change, must change,

when they would be back in Milton. But he couldn't imagine. He knew that very probably there wouldn't be just the two of them for long. Very very

probably, taking only this first day into account. But he couldn't imagine. He was a manufacturer. Plans and schemes were his business. But according

to Margaret they wouldn't work out. He simply clung to her and jumped – or so he felt. Since she'd accepted his proposal, since she'd confessed her

love, his wits were at an end. There was only his heart. He loved. And that was the long and the short of it. Well, he'd see how things would work out

eventually. Especially at home, when his duties and his mother woud catch up with him. But he'd have to find out then. And to enjoy now, like Margaret

obviously did. And with this conclusion he lifted her up to carry her to their bed. She didn't wake up but when he joined her between the sheets he

couldn't resist and took her in his arms again. She turned around to embrace him too, wriggling until she felt him from head to toe, but she didn't open

her eyes. Through the open windows he heard the waves in their steady rhythm rolling on the beach and lying there with her felt like a piece of

eternity.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Both were still asleep when it knocked and the hotelboy said „Sir, you wished to be called at half past seven!" through the still closed door. The self

announced early riser at Johns side embraced him lazily, rustled the blankets and couldn't manage more than a sleepy „Why ...?!" „Because today we'll

make a little trip, my love. So rise and shine!" And with this he kissed her nose, afraid that kissing her anywhere else would bring them in serious

conflict with his timetable. „A trip – but where to? Did we talk about it?" „No, this is a little surprise for you ... If you go on doing that we'll never be in

time!" „We'll have to hurry breakfast then for it seems I simply can't stop ... „ And after a while of the sweetest silence „I wouldn't have believed you

were a man that easily persuaded." Just for a moment he stopped his very welcome undertakings „Bewitched it is, my fairy, bewitched by you." ... And

so breakfast consisted mainly of a buttered toast and a cup of tea.

They left the hotel just in time, followed by the boy carrying a hamper. „When did you prepare for all this?" Margaret asked, trying to keep pace with

her husband's fast trott. „Well, before I joined you in your – what was it – ‚Siesta'?" She still blushed when he referred to their pleasures of marriage

and kept her silence till they reached the old harbour. Here John introduced her to one of the fishermen, who indeed was the friend of the long gone

holidays. He led them to his boat, a spotless clean but nevertheless kind of smelly affair and John helped her walking the small plank leading on board.

„We fastened an awning for you, Madam, so you can sit in the shade till we reach our destination." „Destination? So this isn't just a boat trip? But

where are we going to?" she asked excitedly, for she'd never been on a boat before. The skipper set the sails and off they went. Margaret enjoyed the

journey immensely, the endless sea, the burning sun and the strong wind that came up once they left the sheltered harbour – all that gave her a

feeling of freedom and eternity. John had joined the skipper at the helm, and she saw him laughing and talking to him, all at ease. How good it was to

see him like that, free from everyday's burdens, friendly and happy. The other men seemed to linger awkwardly on the other end of the ship, feeling

very obviously that such a fine lady must somehow feel out of place on a boat like theirs. She went to the rail and looked over the endless sea to the

glittering horizon when John came back to her again. „Isn't this wonderful?" He discreetly laid his hand on hers. „But Davey here says we'll be there

soon" and with this he showed in the other direction, to the landside. She saw the sheer drop of the coast – whatever could he mean? He took her to

the other side of the ship where the seamen already had left to take care of the sails. Then they lowered down a small rowing boat. John took the

hamper and went in, then the skipper said with very obvious pleasure „If you'll allow, Madam," and heaved Margaret over the side in the arms of her

waiting husband. Then he joined them and rowed the boat in the direction of a small, hitherto unseen bay. „Could this be Botany Bay?!" Margaret

exclaimed, causing both men to smile about her excitement. She saw John putting of his shoes and socks, then rolling up his trousers. „I'll put the

basket there and come back to fetch you." He jumped into the shallow water and carried the hamper and the awning to the bay, then he splashed back

and took her in his arms. „See you again at four-thirty then. Thank you, old friend." And then he turned around and carried her to the beach. How she

envied him. It must be so refreshing to walk through cool water. Oh, just to take of one's stockings! He let her down when they reached the dry sand

but kept her in his arms and kissed her. This was so unexpected, in broad daylight and out of doors that she immediately looked around her. „Don't be

afraid, my brave seaman. This island is so far uninhabited. Let's go exploring."

And with this he took her hand and led her in the bay. „This really could be Botany Bay, or Robinson's Island, you know. You can reach it only by ship.

The cliffs are hanging over so you can't see it from above. And this rocks ..." he led her around two giant stones „... that used to build our fort, provide

a sheltered place, with shade, without wind, easy to defend and not to be seen from the seaside!" She watched him spread the awning and a blanket

from the hamper upon it. He even took out a cushion. „Do you like to settle down here in the shade? It is rather hot, don't you think so?" His face

became earnest again, insecure. „Do you like it here?" he at least asked. „Oh John, but this is delightful. What a wonderful idea of you. Let me thank

you!" And she kissed him. In his eyes she saw the grown up and responsible millowner, respectable part of Milton society, struggle with the reckless

free spirit that also lived in this breast. It seemed to her that she'd always known this part of his character too, behind the measured, controlled

master. „Well, before we share our rations let's explore our private beach. And you think we'd really be alone all day long?" „"So Davie told me. Not

many men know this bay even exists." „Would you mind then if I took of my shoes and stockings? I so long to dip my feet in this water." Immediately

his brows unknitted and a smile stole back on his face. „Please do! I'll wait for you at the beach." Obviously his plan had been a rather spontaneous

one and he started all the thinking and worrying right now. She'd halfways expected, well, even wished, that he'd help her getting rid of her garments.

But so she took them modestly off in all privacy. She'd never been walking barefooted on the sand. She lifted her skirts and slowly and carefully walked

to him, being aware of every single step she took. She laughed all over her face with pleasure and delight when she joined him and a single look in her

eyes took away all his fears that this idea might have been a bit ... impulsive. „Oh, how lovely this is! How refreshing. How wonderful! Words fail me,

John!" The water gushed around her small white ankles and it was ... strange ... and exciting to see her legs exposed like that. His thoughts wandered

when he suddenly heard her shriek. One wave had proved to be unexpectedly high and now her hems were partly soaked in water. She looked so

startled that he went to her immediately, taking her arm and leading her back to the waterline again. „Even when this dries again you will see a salty

line all around," she announced ruefully. "Thank heavens this colour is so light, maybe one will not see it so distinctly." „Maybe ..." he cleared his throat,

„maybe we could hang it out to dry on the rocks. You would still be wearing your ... blouse ... and the petticoats." "Right", she answered but not

looking in his face. „I'll take it off behind the rocks. But couldn't you take off your jacket and waistcoat too? If you're in your full dress I'll feel my

impropriety even more."

Awkwardly they went behind the rocks again. John felt disappointed. He'd tried to escape the rules of society, to find a sanctimony for each other and a

possibility for Margaret to do as he knew she wished to. But now it seemed to him they'd simply brought just those rules with them. When he had

draped her wet skirts on the rocks Margaret looked around. „Well, now it seems civilization definitely reached Robinson's Island – washing day and

everything." „It was stupid to think one could simply leave it behind, don't you think so?" He sounded depressed. „Love starts to make a fool out of

me", he thought. „Yesterday I would have bet she would enjoy nothing more than the sun and the sea. I should have talked to her before I took her

here. What must she think of me?!" He hadn't really expected her to answer his question, but she took his thoughts as serious as she'd always done.

„We're taught in its rules from the very beginning. It's what our parents tell us, it's what they lived. Surely it can't all be wrong?" She stopped, looking

at him. „But then ... it made me think wrongly of you. John, I'm ashamed to say so, but I've even been afraid of ... you. Although you never gave me any

reason for that, believe me. And I ... couldn't behave with you the way I'd liked to. It was just like I had to ... learn it again. What if we hadn't found our

way together? What if we couldn't have trusted each other?" She run in his arms. „John, I love you. Propriety never should count more than that! As far

as it concerns just us – we'll have to find our own way.""So I can be bold? Just speak my mind?" He kissed her, like for reassurance. „Would you like to

take a bath in the sea, my love? I thought you'd like to. But once we're here, I suddenly didn't know how to ... begin any more. All I could think was ...

that you would think it improper." She hid her face at his shoulder. „You were right – I'd love to," she whispered. „But I can't go without ... any clothes

at all. I simply can't do that." „You could wear just your shirt, can't you? Then everything else will stay dry and you can dress properly for our way

home." „I do not dare going alone." She looked up. „Will you go with me?" Earnestly he he took her hands. „Of course I will. Whenever you wish me to

join you, I shall do so. I simply wouldn't patronize you."

This time she didn't need much help to undress, only for her remaining petticoats. Both kept silent and turned their backs to each other. When John

wore nothing more but his last pants he looked at his wife. There she stood, and it took his breath away. Only in her shirt, her naked shoulders, arms

and legs showing, her hair coming of her chignon in all possible places, she looked like an ancient Greek goddess. She took his outstretched hand and

followed him to the water. Both still didn't speak. When the water touched their feet again Margaret shivered. „Is it too cold? Should we go back?" he

asked. „Oh no, never. Just don't let me go, promise. No, I'm silly, you'll never do that." He cupped her face in his hands. „Never". Slowly they went in,

deeper and deeper. When the water reached Margaret's shoulders, John took her in his arms and lifted her up a little bit. She laid her arms around his

neck and closed her eyes. „This is like, like floating, like flying. One doesn't feel any weight." She pressed against him. „I shall never forget this, never.

Thank you, John." He carried her back in the shallower water and set her back on her feet again. „Oh, this is much warmer. Do you think I may sit

down?" she asked him. „Of course. I'll let you go then." He walked back in the deeper water and started to swim some paces while she splashed

around. The sand glided through her fingers, the waves again and again rolled over her legs. Envious she watched John swimming. „Who taught you

this? And where ever did you practise?" she asked. „Davey did. And afterwards I never had the opportunity to try again. But obviously one doesn't

forget." Although Margaret started to feel cold she didn't want to leave the water. This was her one opportunity, she felt for sure, and she wanted to

indulge in it. But at least she had to give in. She stood up and went into the deeper water again, trying to rinse the sand from her body and shirt. A

new thought crossed her mind. „Did you even think of bringing towels?" she asked incredously. „Of course. Are you going out? Wait, I'll come with you."

But when she left the water he was suddenly reluctant to catch up with her. Her wet shirt clung to her like a second skin, revealing more than it hid. He

saw her graceful pace, her hips swinging ever so slightly, her waist so small, her ... well ... He couldn't resist and called her name. „Margaret?" And yes,

she turned around. Oh heaven, what should he say? His jaw nearly dropped and he'd to swallow hard. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes beaming,

her face framed by some strands of wet hair. On her naked neck, shoulders, and arms tiny drops of water glittered like sparkling little diamonds. And

under the shirt ... those perfectly shaped breasts. Her flat but womanly belly. Even that dark, secret triangle he'd been allowed to touch so recently.

Her beauty hit him like a blow and her relaxed and innocent bearing wrought his heart right through. A true Eve in her own paradise, that's what she

was.

Margaret saw an expression of complete helplessness on her husbands face, not unlike the one she'd shortly observed the day she'd rejected his

proposal. Then it changed to a look of such open desire that she felt quite shocked for a moment. This was the moment she herself felt the wet shirt

clinging so tightly to her body, the stiff peaks of her breasts, the warm wind flustering over her skin. And this husband of hers, his broad chest heaving,

the muscles of his strong arms tightening, water trickling down his legs. She opened her arms only ever so slightly and he was immediately with her,

sweeping her of her feet and carrying her behind the rocks. The hot rays of the sun had been beaming at their resting place and there he went down,

slowly lowering her on the warm blanket, steadily holding her gaze. All she wanted was to grip his hair and kiss him, to feel his male presence all over

her, to give in to whatever he wanted. They didn't even find the time to take of their garments, their desire being so fierce. So their union was short but

even more intense, very different from the rather slowly and gentle lovemaking they'd enjoyed so far. With his hands around her wrists he mercilessly

held her down, sensing her want of submission. For the first time he didn't wait anxiously for her body to react but simply felt that she would do so,

that this time she wanted to be possessed just as much as he wanted to posses her. Their union ended in such a fierce blast of passion that

Margaret's body shuddered from her fingertips to her toes. She bit in John's shoulder not to cry out aloud, this pang of pain even adding to his

pleasure. Panting he sunk down on her, only then letting go her hands, resting his body on his elbows and feeling the warm sand under them. His

fingers traced down every line of her face and followed the soft curve of her slightly swollen lips. Slowly her lids fluttered open and their eyes met. She

pulled his head near and brought her mouth next to his ear. He felt her hot breath and heard her whisper: „So you are John Thornton." Yes, he was. He

was the man who loved her gently, who cared for her feelings, who valued her opinions. But obviously he also was the male who couldn't resist her

body, who wanted to dominate her, who wished to be her master too. She was right. He felt known to the heart. „And what do you think of him?" he

whispered back. „I'll never find out about this man - but obviously I feel very attracted to him."

Tenderness rushed like a wave through his mind and his eyes clouded. „Let me kiss you" he murmured, „you're my one and all for sure." They took their

time to give each other all the gentleness and the caresses which somehow hadn't found their place before, indulging in their mutual love and

happiness. But the shades of the rocks grew longer and both felt that they should prepare for their comeback into civilization. So they tried to clean

themselves from the sand hiding in the strangest places and to dress as properly as possible. Margaret felt very strange, wearing her corset without

her still wet shirt. With Johns help she managed to fix her hair at least partially, planning to hide her rather unconventional plaits under her big summer

hat later on. John remained in shirtsleeves and looked so handsome, his tousled and salty hair sticking out in all directions. „People say that marriage is

Paradise, but it seems to me that today we literally found it," Margaret said. Both stood hand in hand, watching the makeshift bed of their recent

lovemaking. „When I watched you leaving the water I thought you were my true Eve. Even if I can't take Paradise with me, I will take you", John

answered, kissing the tips of her fingers. Then his eyes fell on their hamper.

„I hope no forbidden fruit in there! Let's see what they gave us for lunch," he proposed and they started to plunder the basket. They found everything

inside, plates, cutlery, even two glasses, cold pie and cold ham, bread, butter, salad, cheese and fruit and a bottle of wine. Stretching on the blanket

and indulging in this feast made both feel their hunger and thirst. Margaret's hair started to come of again and she looked so very beautiful, her naked

feet showing under her skirts, her eyes so bright and her skin with a slight tan. John again found himself staring. „She's so lovely. Sometimes I still can't

believe she really cares for me." But her eyes told him something different and his heart draw tight with love. He rolled closer to his sitting wife and

smiling she cradled his head in her lap. He couldn't take his eyes off her face and she kissed her own index finger, then placing it on his lips. Her hands

caressed his face, tracing his brows and shutting his eyes. He felt her gentle strokes, her loving touch, and his eyelids grew more and more heavy. She

felt for the cushion and placed it beside her then she let herself sink on it, keeping Johns head placed on the voluminous folds of her skirt. She crept

nearer to her husband, undid his shirt and nestled against his naked warm belly. His hand found hers but soon she felt his fingers relaxing. The sun

shone down on them, the warm wind blew from the sea and she heard the rolling of the waves and John's steady breath. She couldn't wish for more.

This for sure was as close to paradise as earth may provide. And with this thought she too fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Both awoke from the sound of splashing oars. A distant voice called out John's name, followed by several „Everything's all right, eh?" John jumped to

his feet hurriedly. He stepped out behind the rocks and smiled rather sheepishly. „Oh heaven, half past already? We must have fallen asleep. Wait.

We'll be ready in a minute." Margaret had already started gathering their belongings. She simply stuck her stockings and her wet shirt in the basket

with the food and the cutlery and folded the blanket. Then she put on her hat, lowering down her veil. Well, a perfect lady again. John took the awning

and the basket and carried it to the boat. Then he went back to fetch his wife. Smiling she stood at the waterline, suddenly lifting her skirts and

stepping in the water to meet him there. „Only one more time", she whispered in his ear, „one more time feeling the water rushing around my feet."

Slowly he lifted her up. „I'm sorry, love", he answered, taking her on his arms. „But what for, John? You gave me a wonderful day. Haven't we found

paradise? It's ours, my heart. It doesn't belong to certain places." They'd reached the boat and he lifted her in, joining her and the smiling Davey. The

men talked about the weather and the catch while they rowed back to the cutter. Margaret kept silent and listened to their talk. Now and then her

husband looked at her, taking her in from head to toe. He smiled and felt that she smiled back although the veil obscured her face.

When they reached the ship and he handed her back in her naked feet dangled shortly before his face. Immediately he thought about the fishermen –

would they notice? He wouldn't like it if they did, that he felt for sure. But where were those shoes, now he came to think of it? Had she put them in the

hamper too? And how should she put them back on unseen? He jumped in the ship and thankfully realized that all men were occupied towing the boat

back in. So he hurried to Margaret. „Did you bring your boots, by the way? You could put them back on unnoticed now." He saw a shadow crossing her

bright and sunny face. „Of course, you're right. I'll do it right now.", she answered and started rummaging the basket. What she found first were her

stockings and her still wet shirt ... shoes or no shoes, she wouldn't feel dressed properly, especially when her petticoats touched her naked legs.

Obviousley her bootlaces had become wet and then dried again, leaving them stiff and hard to move. John stared down on her, seeing her little fingers

tugging at the stiff strings. At least he took the boot out of her hands. „Let me help you," he said and tried his luck. When he had opened the boots

wide enough he simply knelt down in front of her and waited for her to stick her foot in. She had to lift her skirts a bit to manage and again it struck him

how improper this seemed to be – and this of the woman he'd made love to in bright daylight and under the open sky! He laced both boots, taking care

not to touch her naked legs and to look steadily on the ground. She felt his embarassement and it infected her too. When he stood up again their gaze

met and he heard her whisper „Thank you, John." He just nodded and they leaned over the railing, seeing the city and the harbour on the far horizon.

When they at least reached the pier again he ordered a cab, fearing she would get blisters without her stockings. She yearned for the moment when

he would help her in, being able to touch him again. After they'd shared so much intimacy the whole day, she felt alone and estranged now, standing

just beside him. He handed her in and joined her, closing the door by himself. When the cab drove on he immediately took her hand, lifted it to his

mouth and kissed it. He never let go till the horses stopped in front of the hotel.

„Do you know what I need before anything else?" she asked when they stepped in their room. „Lots of water to get rid of all this sand clinging to me.

Didn't I leave a trail along the whole corridor?" „You're right, me too", he smiled. „I'll call for the stove to be fired". The maid told them it would take

about a quarter of an hour till there would be enough hot water for a bath – should she bring some refreshment? So they took some tea in their itching

clothes, not even sitting down but standing in front of their great window, cups in hand. „Water should be hot by now", John announced, „shall I call

the maid? Or shall I ..." His voice trailed of. Margaret whinced inwardly. How on earth should she explain all this sand, her hair, and, above all, her

missing shirt to the maid. The girl gossip for sure! „That would be very kind of you – although I won't reduce you to my personal valet, you know. Tying

my boots, doing my dressing ..." „And undressing" he couldn't resist to say and of course he saw her blush. „Margaret, I'd do a lot more than that to

see you happy and content, as you know for sure. Let's make a deal – whatever one of us offers voluntarily the other may take without hesitation.

Meaning tying boots as well as ... „ Now it was for him to blush, for what he'd thought was „... sharing a bath." So he said after short hesitation „...

undoing cravats – ... or whatever!" „We'll do that – thank you, John", was what she answered before striding in direction of their bedchamber. He

followed her but hesitated as she headed for the bathroom. She opened the door and turned around. „I'm afraid it would be best to ... undress in the

bathroom ... if you don't mind. Otherwise we'll have some indian desert in our bedroom, you see". „I don't mind at all – in you go, my sandy Nubian.

Let's start with those infernal buttons". So they laughed and talked till Margaret was at least ready for the tube. John clapped his hand to his forehead.

„We forgot to let the water in. You'll get cold waiting till the bath is ready". But she shook her head. „I'll open my hair over the tube so I can simply

shake the sand out of it. And then I'll mix the water in the ewer, rinsing myself before I'll have anything like a bath". „Maybe we could help each other",

her husband mused. „Somehow I don't see you handling the filled ewer above your head ... Would you mind if I'd undress too?" Before she could

answer he started unbuttoning his shirt, saying offhanded „You should do whatever you planned to do with your hair meanwhile". When at least both

stood in the bathtube, time for confessions had come. After avoiding eye contact and behaving very matter of factly until then, Margaret was the first to

speak. She grabbed John's hands and whispered, hardly audible „John, don't think bad of me, but I wished to join you in your bath already on our very

first morning here". He took her in his embrace. „And I yours, believe it or not". They kissed, happy, tenderly. „All right", John said, taking the ewer, „I'll

rinse you first. So when you later drop the ewer on my head, you'll at least be clean and proper when you call for the doctor." And before she could

answer that a gush of warm water over her head left her speechless. They managed to clean themselves and still have enough water left for a bath.

First they simply relaxed in the warm water, sitting opposite to each other, somehow managing to sort out their legs. Then the problem arose which

soap to use, and it was finally decided that it should be John's, as Margaret would use perfume in the evening anyway. So they sponged each other

and Margaret washed John's hair, both indulging in giving and receiving so much tenderness. Although John was aroused he instinctivley felt that

Margaret wasn't, but seeked his caresses and closeness, which he gave with pleasure. Their extended lovemaking had left him a bit weak in the knees,

an obstacle easy to overcome if need be but ... right now there wasn't any need. When the water grew colder they again rinsed each other with a

fresh supply and at least left the tube – very clean indeed!

While John dressed Margaret tried to brush her entangled hair in vain. So at least the maid had to be called for, despite all their wishes to be alone.

John read the newspaper in the living room while his wife was magically transformed from the rather wet mermaid she'd been for the greater part of

the day to a grand and stately lady. Again they went out for dinner, this time to a restaurant at the pier, taking in the excited and elegant atmosphere

of the seabath. „One more day and it's Milton again", Margaret mused over her plate. „Are you afraid of going there again? Would you prefer to stay

here?", John asked anxiously. „As long as I'm with you I'd go everywhere, John. Besides, the mill's waiting for you. And to me, Milton is home long

since." „I'm glad you say so. Margaret, somehow I can't imagine how our life there would be. This is something so totally new, so big and important for

me, I've no idea how it should simply ‚fit in'. I don't even want it to simply fit in. Our house, my work, it will have to change for us. Let's make a new

start, help me in that, won't you?" His face was so earnest that she longed to take his hand for encouragement. As this was not possible she smiled

across the table. „Let's not make too many plans. We'll see how things go when we're back. I know you'll have a lot of work to do when the mill's open

again. Very probably you'll have to work late hours many a day. Let me help you where I can. We can share some time in working together if you find

something useful to do for me." Her eyes sparkled. „On the other hand, when I think of the last time we were in that office of yours ..." He cleared his

throat, remembering how Dixon had come over them then. For their better, for he still wasn't sure if he could have reigned himself in in that ecstatic

moment. How frustrated he'd been when he'd had to let her go. And he hadn't even known what kind of passion was waiting for him! Immediately

everything they'd shared by now came into his mind. He lowered his voice. „Have you ever thought about ... children? We never talked about it, you

see. Don't you think there may very soon be one ... on its way?" „Well, of course I'll have your children, John! If God will bless us with them. – You're

right, we can't even plan if I could share in your work. With a baby, I couldn't." He searched her eyes: „Let's simply never forget what we promised

here. About us. About our love. About our life together. Then come what may!" Now she held out her hand, proper or not, and he took it. „Come what

may, John. I promise."


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

When they walked through the gates of Marlborough Mills again, John felt happy but slightly nervous too. Of course he was looking forward to opening

the Mill. It has been his life till he met Margaret and he'd gained it again when all seemed lost. There were so many things to be thought of, so many

letters to be written that he knew he'd have to spend more than twenty-four hours without a break at his desk. On the other hand he felt uneasy with

the thought of leaving Margaret that long alone with his mother. They had talked about her involvement in the running of the mills kitchen, but then

she'd have to learn a lot before she could be of any real help. He'd told her so and she was thankful for it. His feelings for her should never cloud his

judgement for the efficient running of his mill. If she had to learn – well, she was more than willing too instead of sitting with her mother in law and the

endless sewing of hers. If she should happen to see her husband more often during her apprenticeship – well, the better for it. But, she'd always have

to remember to treat him without to much intimacy – he was the master and had to be respected!

He bade her his arm and led her up the steps to the great front entrance when it opened and his mother was to be seen. Seeing her son again and

seeing him looking so well wrought a smile from her lips and she even said "It's good to have you home again!" although she'd dreaded the day he'd

finally settle in with this wife. "I hope you're well, mother?" John asked, stepping in the hall. "And how's Fanny? Is she in good health?" he could hear

Margaret's voice from the background. "We're all in good health, as we always use to be. We're simply to busy for airs and graces!" Mrs. Thornton

couldn't stop herself to answer, giving Margaret the first pang of pain. John glared at his mother and asked rather sharply "Will you call for some tea?

We could both do with a refreshment after the journey." "Of course", Mrs. Thornton flinched, and in moving in the direction of the kitchen she

announced "By the way, Margaret's trunks from London have arrived yesterday. They're still on the upper landing as you didn't tell me what to do with

them." Margaret had already told the servants where to put their suitcases and followed them upstairs to give some more directions and to change her

travel clothes. First John thought about following her but then thought the better of it and went into the living room. As he'd expected he found a heap

of letters on the desk where he used to work sometimes. He went through them, opened some and put them on different piles. Then he found himself

dipping the feather in the ink to throw some sentences on a sheet of paper. Yes, he loved his profession. Not as much as Margaret. But nevertheless

he'd to be careful not to neglect her. The next moment he smiled. Neglect her … He'd to think about her about every ten minutes and it still made his

heart beat faster. He looked at his watch. Yes, it would be more than proper to see her upstairs now. She would have changed and he'd to refresh

himself too. So he went to his old bedroom, for they had decided to use this as their bedchamber. He hesitated a moment before he opened the door.

He'd dreaded this room, it's sombre and impersonal look. But the bed was a fourposter built for a couple and it was a long way from his mother's room,

so they kept it. When he opened the door Margaret wasn't there, but he immediately saw the signs of her presence. A new quilt in bright colours was

spread over their bed and matching bedcurtains already lay on a chair. In front of the fireplace she'd dragged a small settee from one of the guest

rooms, with a matching little table. He couldn't but smile … should they have their evening brandy there? A cosy cushion on the floor he seemed to

remember from Mr. Hale's study, but he wasn't sure. Then his gaze fell on the chest of drawers and he felt his heart miss a beat. There, in a little china

plate which she'd bought only yesterday in their seaside ressort, he saw some shells and small pebbles, unmistakeably taken from Botany Bay … This

would remind them that they could have their paradise wherever they chose. Oh this lovely, lovely woman. Just then he heard a scrambling from the

next room, where she'd stayed during their short engagement. So he went there and found her with a housemaid between all her trunks and

suitcases. She smiled when he opened the door. "Oh John, I thought I could use this room as my dressing room. Part of my clothes is still here and your

wardrobe would be far too small anyway." "Of course, that would be very convenient. But how about tea for now?" Margaret gave the maid some last

instructions and followed her husband on the landing. But to her astonishment he lead her into their bedchamber instead of the staircase. He closed

the door behind them. "Let's do a rehearsal", he proposed and smiled when she looked blank eyed at him. "I can't believe how much you changed this

room in this short time. And I appreciate of it. Very much indeed. The best thing seems to me our souvenirs from Botany Bay." Margaret blushed but

smiled. He'd understand. How much she'd hoped so! "But the second best is this settee. Let's find out if it fits our needs." And with that he let himself

plunge into it and pulled his wife on his lap. "Well, a sofa would be more convenient, but in this small space this will do very well, what do you think?"

She put her arms around his neck and shyly seeked his lips. It seemed strange to behave like that in this house, where they had had to steal time and

place for their love just so recently. His lips answered tenderly, softly, so she relaxed and grew more bold, opening her mouth and kissing him more

passionately. He was on fire in an instant, pressing her against him and even thinking of carrying her to their bed. But reason reigned them in. This

wasn't their honeymoon any more, this was their home, a maid in the next room and his mother waiting with the tea. Both sighed when their lips

parted and Margaret looked so forsaken that John embraced her again immediately. "We'll find our way, my love! Trust me!" And after another kiss they

left the room.

They entered the living room arm in arm but once inside Margaret instantly went to the table and asked: "May I pour the tea, Mrs. Thornton?" "Of

course, you're the mistress of the house now, so you may do as you please." With this affronting words Mrs. Thornton took a seat far away from the

table and the tea tray. "And by the way, I offered Watson to call me 'mother' the other day, so it will only be right if you also call me like that." Margaret

started to tremble. She would never be able to live in peace with this woman. And she knew she would choke should she ever call Mrs. Thornton by

that dear name. "Mother! Dear mother, how I miss you." Her eyes filled with hot tears but she would have rather died than showed them. So she

busied herself over the tea and poured all three cups before she brought Mrs. Thornton her share. No sugar, no milk, thank God she remembered that

from the short weeks of her engagement. She reached her the cup, steadying her trembling hands. "I'm by no means prepared to be the mistress of

such a great house", she answered with great dignity. "You run this household so smart, I'm sure I'll have to learn a lot from you. John took the liberty

to allow me to keep my old room as a dressing room. I started to fit it with some of my things from London, but of course there's a lot more which we

wouldn't keep there. Do you have a spare room in which I could stow them before we decide what finally should happen with these things? I'd like to

settle in properly before I take my share in the household's necessities and I think it will take a few days." In John's eyes a storm had brewn since his

mother had first spoken her impertinent words. But as Margaret had answered so civil, so humbly, he tried to check his temper. "I understand Margaret

wants to buy some wallpapers and a few pieces of furniture for our rooms, so she will be rather busy with redecorating in the next days, mother. Let's

just do like we always did in the next weeks, don't you think?" But Mrs. Thornton had to feed her wrath, it seemed. "Redecorating?! I'd have thought

our rooms very fine the way they are. But now there's your money in the house you can very well spend it the way you like, if necessary or not.

Although my saying had always been 'A penny saved is a penny earned'!" "But mother! Didn't you rejoice in decorating this house when we moved in,

although almost everything was still in good order? That's part of making a house a home, isn't it? And besides, when the mill's reopened and I see

how business is going I even plan to rebuild part of the first storey. I'd very much appreciate of having some of those modern bathrooms with running

hot water and the like. Well, we'll see. Love," he addressed Margaret and blushed because he'd carelessly called her so in company, "let's have a look

at the paper."

This was a habit they'd formed in their honeymoon, sitting together and reading the newspaper, each one a different part, and while reading sharing

and discussing the news. John had smiled in disbelief when Margaret even had wanted to know about the stock market, but he'd patiently explained it

to her, using examples from the trade in Milton and had been astonished how fast she'd gripped the essentials. Now they took a delight in guessing

about the development of certain shares and speculations and were waiting eagerly for the next day's figures in the newspapers to compare with their

forecasts. John found it rather fascinating to hear on which reasons Margaret judged a business to be successful or not. To her it seemed certainly not

only a question of figures and profit and she doomed some very successful looking schemes because "… those people were totally ignorant of the

potential and the needs of their workmen …" Mrs. Thornton turned her eyes when she heard them talking like this but mercifully kept her tongue. She

couldn't see the faces of the young couple because both were hidden behind the large parts of their papers but after a while she noticed a prolonged

silence. As a matter of fact John had felt save enough behind his makeshift screen to seek Margaret's eyes and to lure her closer and closer in just by

the intensity of his gaze. At least he touched her lips and they exchanged a hot and ardent kiss. But this was no good for both were intoxicated in an

instant and when their mouths parted reluctantly Margaret went crimson again. He longed for her … and if they still would have been in their hotel she

would have answered this longing most willingly. Oh those smoldering eyes … better leave him sitting there and cool down somewhere else. And then

she had to overlook if Betsy had managed to take up those bed curtains. So she cleared her throat, announced "I'll have a look at Betsy, she's hanging

the bed curtains" and stood up. John immediately noticed that she smoothed her skirts like she always used to when feeling guilty. He smiled. Maybe

he could seduce her to partake in another sweet crime … So he watched her leaving the room and returned to his paper, but only to let his imagination

wander …

After a quarter of an hour he also rose and went for the door, smiling affectionately to his mother when she looked up from her sewing but saying

nothing. Once he was outside Mrs. Thornton heard him on the staircase, taking at least two steps at a time. She'd often wondered if this sombre,

earnest son of hers should ever set his heart on a woman and she'd even tried to make a match with some respectable young girls of their circle. But

he'd always been too busy to form any attachment – or at least so she'd thought. But obviously those girls simply hadn't been to his taste and she

never would have guessed what kind of taste that might be. For sure she wouldn't have expected that he should fall for impertinence and such liberties

as this young woman was taking. … The hanging of bed curtains! To mention a thing like that in the presence of ones mother in law! She shook her

head and concentrated on her sewing again.

John meanwhile had reached the landing and tapped softly on the door of their bedchamber. As he heard no answer he entered and found his wife in

the middle of the room, looking at their bed in deep thought. "Those curtains look like they've been made for this bed. Why are you looking so

scrutinizingly?" She started for she obviously hadn't heard him coming in. She shrugged and the words came tumbling out of her mouth. "Does it

squeak?" "Just how long have you been musing about that? Oh daring daring wife, we'll find out" and speaking so he was with her, enclosing her in his

arms. "Or do you expect Betsy back again?" "No, but John, you can't be in earnest! It's just afternoon and the whole household is up and about."

He didn't answer but focused his gaze on her lips. He felt so drawn to this mouth, he could feel his head move in its direction all by itself. His lips but

brushed hers and he felt a tickling running down the sides of his chest. His arms drew her closer and for reasons unknown even to himself he bit her

upper lip and sucked it in. What did he want? Was he trying to seduce her? He didn't know. He simply couldn't manage to keep away from her, not his

eyes, not his hands, not his mouth, not even his thoughts. Even through all their clothes he felt the heat emerging from her body, and with it her very

own and special scent. This was like a drug. He was drawn to this special place beyond her ear, taking in her smell like a predator the smell of his prey.

Her head drew back ever so slightly, but he felt it. He saw the vene on her neck throbbing under her skin, showing him how very fast her heart was

beating. Again his lips only brushed her skin. And again he bit her and would have bitten her much harder if he hadn't restrained himself. He felt the

increasing weight on his arms as her knees slowly gave way. He'd always thought it was the other way around, had thought that a man simply couldn't

resist a woman, should she tempt him. He'd kept his eyes open all the time so he saw her head dropping back, her mouth slightly opened, her fluttering

lids. Her limbs felt like a liquid and he simply knew that she would give in to whatever he should want. In broad daylight, the servants roaming the

floors, his mother on the watch – she would give in. Slowly he lifted her up, steadying her against his chest. God, he wanted her. He ached for her. His

jaws moved. He knew that she would regret it the moment they'd leave this room. Again he took in her smell and thought of the musky scent on his

fingers when she had allowed him to touch her. He moaned. He couldn't fight it and moaned. When Margaret heard him she feared to faint. She'd

thought she knew what desire felt like but she hadn't. For now she'd tasted John and she felt like an addict. She simply hadn't the strength to resist

him. Would she regret it? It didn't matter right now. He longed for her. He'd moaned. And yet he didn't give in because of her concerns. How strong he

was – and always had been. She brought her mouth very near to his and whispered "I couldn't stop you if I would. But I won't, John." Her voice faded.

"John … She just had to feel his skin, just had to tug out his shirt, to let her hands slide along his lean back. Abruptly he let her down and started

struggling out of his jacket. When they had managed to free him of that they started simultaneously to open his waistcoat and shirt. While John threw

these off Margaret took a firm grip on the first button of his trousers. For the part of a second both awoke from their frenzy and their eyes met. John

took her face in both hands and kissed his wife reassuringly so she opened them with flying hands. He kicked his shoes off and simply stepped out of

his trousers, leaving them on the floor in a crumbled heap. Undressing Margaret naturally was a more difficult task but they managed in astonishing

speed, leaving her in her shirt at least. Then they tumbled backwards on the bed, rolling about, kissing and holding each other as tight as possible.

John's grip on Margaret's hair was so strong that her chignon came down in one piece; impatiently he pulled out the ribbon and shook her tresses, her

very own scent again hitting him like a wave. He felt her fingers scratching down his back, shortly resting on his hips and trying to pull him even closer.

Even closer under the circumstances could only be achieved by a complete union and it nearly drove him over the edge that she showed him her

longing so unabashed. So he let Margaret take the reigns, rolling on his back and taking her with him. She knelt on top of him, threw away her blasted

shirt and reached out to kiss him once more, the mass of her hair coming down and engulfing his face. Thinking of their last similar encounter, she didn't

move otherwise, trying to give her beloved some time to calm down a bit. But seeing his strained face, feeling his fervent kisses, grabbing his strong

shoulders, made this a far too difficult task. She felt him, under her, inside her, kind of all over and even without moving the sweetness and delight was

nearly unbearable. So she started to move, arching back until her long tresses touched his legs. His hands groped her hips where he could feel her

pace increasing, his thumps stretching out towards the incredibly soft skin directly under her hipbones. After a short while Margarets muscles started to

contract around him and she fell forward, digging her fingers in his arms and John too gave in to his climax, again grabbing her wrists so tightly that

they bruised. He heard her cry out, her face dug in his shoulder and pressed one of her hands on his mouth to stiffle his own moan.

Margaret felt completely unable to move, heaving, gasping, little pearls of sweat trickling down her neck. Could this be possible? So much love, so much

passion, it made her heart ache. John's arm kept her against his chest like an iron band, his other hand still pressed her own one against his mouth.

She felt his rasping breath between her fingers, hot and irregular, and stretched them to feel his lovely face. Neither of them felt like moving or

speaking but after a while the sounds of the large house came to life in their satisfied silence. This was an aspect both didn't wish to think about –

hearing, being heard. So Margaret started kissing John's face and when he opened his eyes she murmured: "Whatever John – this was worth it!" in a

very persuading tone and manner. His mouth twitched "Every second of it – for I fear there are not many minutes to be counted."

Then his eyes became earnest again. "Where does this come from, this urge, this absolute need for each other? If another man would tell me I should

think of a form of madness." His hands stroked her so very gently, literally took her in from head to toe. "My sweet, my beloved wife – I confess I'm lost

to you. As you're to me, it seems. I'll never get used to it. And I obviously can't fight it." Her face was earnest too, worried even. "Do you think it will

last, John? Or will it … wear out, or however one should call it? Feeling so attracted, so overpowered – it can't stay like that forever, don't you think? It

will give way to something more genteel, something … softer. At least I have no couple in all my acquaintance behaving like … this … like us. Of course I

don't know for sure. But I haven't heard anything, or seen anything, which would have made me guess. But then – I never would have guessed for I

hadn't known until we were married." She thought about that when he suddenly grabbed her and rolled himself upon her. "If it really – how did you call

it? – wears out, let's take no chances and have another try right now. Who knows how long it's going to last!?" Seeing his tousled hair and the

laughing blue eyes didn't help hitting the right indignant tone. "John! Stop making fun of me! But …" she mused for a short while, "could you do so

again right now – strictly theoretical spoken of course?" He didn't know himself what devils possessed him. Moving a bit higher, he bit her earlobe and

whispered "What do you think, my Eve?" And she felt rather obviously that he indeed very well could do so. "We'd take some more time …", he

murmured, his tongue flicking along her neck, tasting the salty pearls of her sweat, "and probably won't blast away like that. But as we're here for once

…" He'd started it as a game, to make fun of her. But he immediately sensed how responding she was. And she tasted so good. Felt so warm and soft.

Right now he hadn't had the time to indulge in all that, in her beauty, her tenderness. They kissed softly, never closing their eyes, and their glances

expressed as much love as their gently murmured words did. And so they let it happen once more, calmer this time, taking their time, indulging in their

love. When they parted for the second time they felt like they've been interwoven, like the one cloth made of two strings in one of their looms. John's

head rested in his wife's arms and now and then he kissed the incredible soft skin of her bosom. They rested, relaxing, exhausted, with no need to talk.

"I didn't hear any squeaks, by the way, but then I've to confess I wasn't exactly listening", John teased after a while, but got no answer from his

beloved. Margaret, so close entwined with her husband, feeling so utterly content and so utterly tired, had been falling asleep, but even in her sleep

her hand never lost its firm grip at his one. He sighed deeply and pulled the new quilt over them, stretched his still shaking legs and closed his eyes

too.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Both woke up with a start when there was a soft knock on the door. "Mr. Thornton, Sir," they heard Betsy's anxious voice from outside, "Mrs. Thornton

asks if you and Mrs. Thornton will attend dinner." John had established the rule long since that the servants weren't allowed to burst into his private

rooms after knocking, but had to wait outside since he called them in. So he gathered his wits and simply said nonchalantly "Of course, Betsy. Tell her

we'll be downstairs in ten – ", he looked at his dishevelled wife, "or let's say twenty minutes." "But", Betsy answered in a really uncomfortable manner,

"dinner's been served for about a quarter of an hour." John repeatedly cursed himself and managed only an "All right, tell her to start then – we'll join

her immediately." Margaret had already been getting up and started to dress herself, repeatedly swallowing for she feared to burst into tears. John felt

her distress and it made him feel even more angry. "Margaret", he addressed her in a very stern voice, "I'll not allow you to cry, do you hear me? I claim

the right to do as I please in my own house and wish not to be interfered with by my mother or the servants." His voice grew softer. "I love you, you

know I do. And you're my wife. Good gracious, I'd do just the same right again, for it was most wonderful." He stopped full short, seeing her fight with

her petticoats and knowing for sure that she was crying by now. "You said so yourself!" He saw her shoulders heave and felt a complete idiot to have

brought her to this. "Whatever – this was worth it, yes, that was just what you said. Or …" sounding afraid now, "did you change your mind? Didn't you

want it too, love? Didn't you like it?" She turned around, the tears trickling down her face, hurrying into his arms. "You know that it is heaven. But …",

her arms fell down helplessly, "I'll never be properly dressed in time. And I can't go downstairs like this. What am I to do? This is so impolite to your

mother. And so stupid to give her reason to be angry with me!" He nearly crushed her in his embrace. "I'll not allow this to be turned into something

bad. It's ours and ours alone and I will defend it." He kissed her hair. "You see, I'm going to send for Betsy right now. I'm ready and will go downstairs

and tell mother that you've been tired after the journey and fell asleep, that you're sorry and will join us immediately. And in, say fifteen minutes, I'll

come and fetch you. You shall walk to dinner at my arm and never otherwise when I'm around. You're my wife and I'll be damned if I'm not allowed to

be proud of you and to show you the respect you deserve. Do not look so stricken, love. Look at me the way you did before we fell asleep." But she

only hugged him once more and turned away to look for her dressing gown. Striding down the stairs he tried to summon as much dignity as he could

muster, inwardly calling himself one utterly besotted fool and egotistical puppy. It had been his responsibility to take care of his wife, he and he alone

had brought on this situation and her distress, how wonderful their hours of intimacy ever might have been. When he entered the dining room Mrs.

Thornton had had time enough to prepare more than one spiteful little speech, but one look in her son's face taught her better of if. They must have

had quarrelled, indeed quarrelled on their first day at home, for why should he otherwise be so angry and come to the table without this accursed

woman. "Good evening, mother. Excuse us for being late. Margaret was tired after the journey and fell asleep and I didn't wake her in time. She'll be

right here." "Well, you're not her maid, are you? Why should you …" Mrs. Thornton began to talk against her own better judgement. The next instance

she had her son coming down on her in an almost frightening way. "Mother!" his voice trembled with anger. "Will you stop interfering and do so

immediately! I never should have thought that I'd ever be forced to talk to you in this way, but your behaviour is inacceptable. Inacceptable!" Now he

spoke very slowly. "I do no longer care if you approve of my wife! Because whatever she may do or may not do, your mind is set against her and you

will always find fault with her. She did wrong to me, well, so did I to her! Nevertheless I love her more than anything in the world, and so does she love

me. I always thought that you were concerned for my happiness. But now I start to feel that you're only concerned for your own. For I am happy,

mother, more than happy, and I will not allow you to spoil the best days of my life. If you really want to see me happy, make do with Margaret and find

her to be the dear dear girl she is. When I left her she cried because of the reception you gave her. I will not tolerate this, do understand that once and

for all! And now I'm going to fetch her, so you'll have some quiet minutes to muse about your decisions. And send the meal back in the kitchen – I don't

fancy cold potatoes and roastbeef." These harsh words hadn't helped to soothe his anger and he shoved his chair back so brusque that it nearly fell

over.

He left the room and sighed, thinking of what might be waiting for him in Margaret's dressing room. He knocked softly and went in when he heard her

soft voice calling his name. There she sat in front of her dresser, smiling at him, but how wretchedly. It turned his heart over. Betsy stepped back from

her mistress, never the less looking very satisfied, and couldn't help herself addressing her master "T' mistress is looking so beautiful, isn't she?!"

Involuntary John smiled a crooked smile. "Indeed she is, Betsy. Most beautiful!" And with this he ceremonially moved to Margaret and bade her his arm.

"And she looking so cute, she was, and 'im, looking at 'er and 'olding out 'is arm, such a gentleman the master is with 'er, I couldn't believe me own

eyes, I couldn't. And then …" and here she paused dramatically, "'e kissed 'er 'and, 'e did, and right before me eyes. I didn't know where to take 'm, you

believe me. Well", her eyes closed dreamily, "they married for luve, didn't they." Those were her words to many an interested ear later in the kitchen,

the housemaids giggling and poking their ribs.

Margaret knew nothing of this when she reached out her hand and felt his tender kiss. Her eyes shone bright after her tears and her cheeks had a rosy

tinge from their afternoon of love. She wore one of her elegant new dresses from her trosseau and looked really beautifully, but not as calm and

serene as usual, and he only wished he could wipe the last half hour from her mind. With a wave of his hand John dismissed Betsy from the room.

"Forgive me, Margaret. I should have known better, as a matter of fact, I knew better all along". He pulled her in his arms and rested his head on her

hair to hide the tears of anger and despair that had stolen into his eyes. "Forgive the way I spoke to you, about my house and my wife. This is us. This

concerns us, not me alone. But let me comfort you. No one knows the reason why we're late, Margaret, you overslept after a long and tiresome

journey, that's all. I'm sorry for it and all the more because it distresses you so much and I will take good care not to let such a thing happen again. But

please, love, please, let this not touch what happened between us, for I swear that I will never ever forget it, never in all my life. Can you forgive me"?

Margaret heard his voice quaver and it gave her a pang of pain. What did she care for this haughty woman sitting downstairs and glaring at her?

Nothing, nothing at all. She gently stroked his hair and his face, pulling it down to her. "No John, you forgive me! I behaved like a fool and I'm sorry for

it. We talked about finding our own way, and we did so every day of the last week. Whatever happened, we chose to do so, you and me and I will not

and never ever repent it. You're right, we did nothing wrong but to be late for dinner and I will not blush for it, I promise. Let's go downstairs and see

Mrs. Thornton." "I'm not sure if we will, for we had rather unpleasant talk. Do not look so stricken again, love. I spoke my mind as I thought it necessary

and she's used to that. Maybe I should have done so all along before our marriage day. Let's just have dinner."

Meanwhile they had reached the dining room, always on the lookout for curious servants. Quickly he bent forwards and kissed her sweet lips. "In we

go, my rosebud lips", he whispered and opened the door. Keeping her at his arm by laying his hand on hers he led her to her chair. Indeed his mother

was still sitting at her place, staring at their rather ceremonial entry. "Good evening, Mrs. Thornton. I'm very sorry to be so late and to have disturbed

your dinner. Please forgive me. I was so tired after the journey, I should have told Betsy to call me in time." Mrs. Thornton looked at her with a blank

expression. "Well", she gathered her wits, "you must have been very tired indeed. I'll call for the food imediately, you must be very hungry too. John,

pull the bell, please." A few moments later dinner was served for the second time at this evening and although the potatoes had been roasted to

reheat them the young couple thought it a most wonderful meal. Especially John felt nearly famished and when Mrs. Thornton saw them eating so

heartily she announced "Well, the sea air obviously did your appetite some good, too." causing Margaret to blush although she had so decidedly told

that she wouldn't. John's mouth twisted when he saw this and he thought about her mockery about him having worked hard for his breakfast. Well, he

had always thought about himself as a hard working man, but never the less he'd never felt such wolfish hunger or – to talk of that – literally shaking

legs in the evening. Involuntary he shook his head. Women obviously were dangerous things.

Meanwhile Margaret had started to make polite conversation to her mother in law. She asked for their acquaintances and how Mrs. Thornton had

passed the last week and John's mother answered not enthusiastically but not unfriendly too. Soon their talk went on about the next day, the

reopening of the mill and the things to do. This was a topic all three of them had something or the other to say about and so dinner went by rather

pleasantly and they found themselves facing their dessert in no time. As Mrs. Thornton always had been an early riser she fixed the time for next

mornings breakfast and then excused herself, retiring to her room and searching the peace of slumber. Many thoughts raced through her head, above

all about the unexpectedly pleasant dinner, and many of those she didn't like to dwell upon. So she resolutely closed her eyes and willed herself to

sleep in an instant.

So Margaret and John – against all odds - found themselves sovereigns of the living room at a still early hour and happily took in their old place on the

sofa. This brought on many still fresh memories and Margaret recalled minutely how she had felt the last time she had been sitting on this same sofa

with John. When he rose again to pour himself his glass of brandy she thought his movements a bit awkward and his steps towards the small

refreshment table kind of … gingerly. So she stayed in her corner after he'd let himself plunge down again and watched his face for traces of pain.

"You're not well, love?" she asked at least. Now it was his turn to blush. "Very well, thank you. But …" his lips crooked into a mischievious smile "it

seems we need to practise more often to get my limbs used to such excertions as today." Of course his wife went crimson in an instant, but she hid it

well in sliding from the sofa and kneeling down to open his shoes. "Let's put those poor misused legs up then" she said, turning his limbs on where she

had sat right before and stuffing a cushion in his back, "and give them some rest." Then she lifted his feet up, sat down and cradled them in her lap.

John's first reaction was to protest against such treatment but than he felt her small hand sliding into one leg of his trousers and stroking his bare skin,

her head cocked a bit to one side watching his expression. She spoke before he could: "Once I surprised my parents sitting like that, my mother's feet

on my father's lap, just talking. They were so embarrassed, but to me it has always been a very vivid picture of the strong bond between them. They

seemed so relaxed – at least till they saw me … and as we don't have curious little girls around yet …" He smiled and she bowed towards him to touch

his cheek. "Dearest …" her voice trailed off. "But speaking of little ones – I shall go and see Mary tomorrow and hopefully the little Butcher's too. When

will you reopen the cantina? Shall I ask Mary about it?" "Well, the cantina was a success for sure. I never before talked to my men so much – and they

to me, as it were. I hope we could go on with it, but let's wait till we see how things work out." "Do you question your success? Are you uncomfortable

about it? Why so?" John whinced inwardly. "Because it's your money I risk", he thought, but was wise enough not to say so aloud. When he had

mentioned his scruples for the first time Margaret had become really upset. "Wouldn't you've had me without this money? When you first asked me I

had none. Well, I was stupid enough to have rejected you then, but if not I never should have thought about your money! Didn't you say 'I do' to the

part with the worldly possessions too?" He didn't want to indulge in this matter. "Cotton is such a young industry. Things have to sort themselves out

and running a business like this will always be a risk. Otherwise …" he paused for the shortest time "I wouldn't have failed the last time. You see for

yourself the ups and downs in the stock markets, enterprises we judged to be successful for sure ended up as sad miscalculations. And with them the

fortune of many a master." His cheeks had flushed and he took a sip of his brandy to calm himself. He'd always comforted himself with the thought that

the failure of his business hadn't been by his own making. Clients not paying their bills, business partners not buying the promised amount of cotton,

the strike ... Things had summed up badly and he hadn't had the capital to hold out just for the little while it would have taken him to make the mill

survive. True, Margaret's money was more than enough to hold out in circumstances much more difficult and he didn't earnestly doubt his abilities to run

a mill successfully. But he was sure he'd hear more than one sliding comment on his fortunate marriage and the more he felt how utterly and helplessly

he loved her the more angry this thought made him. By god, he would have married this woman right out of the poor house and it wouldn't have

dashed his pride. But to have his devotion questioned because of her fortune … he'd have to be careful with his temper. Again she silently watched his

face and when he reached out to let her sip from hiss glass she slightly shook her head. "May I kiss some from your lips?" she then asked. He obliged

with pleasure and she smelled his sweet breath when their mouths met. Quickly her little tounge shot out and wandered once around his lips. "You

taste good" she announced, leaning back into her corner. "And …?" he asked after a while. "And nothing", she smiled. "You taste good. You smell good.

You … feel good. But I felt drawn to you before I could find out all that, remember? I felt drawn to you because I simply knew that you WERE good, even

when I'd set my mind in thinking bad of you. I knew that you wouldn't partake in the speculation. I know now that you'll not jeopardize with your

money, or the welfare of your men. As far as it's up to you, you'll succeed, John. And as far as it's not up to you – well, it's up to God. I'll be proud to see

you back in your office tomorrow, because it's the place where you belong – so don't you start fretting." John smiled rather ruefully, feeling distinctly like

his mother had been coming down on him. "Speaking of places where on belongs" he said, eager to change the topic and keeping his tone light, "at

this time of day you belong on my knees for sure!" and speaking so he swung his legs to the floor and pulled her close. Margaret took her seat there

most willingly, sliding both arms around his neck and pressing her mouth on his sensible skin. "Dearest …." she whispered again, her hands tousling his

hair. He looked so young and boyish then and she wished to tousle his dark thoughts away too. "Let's go to bed now. You'll need your sleep for

tomorrow, don't you think?" "You're probably right" he sighed and she slipped from his knees and started to wander through the room, extinguishing

the candles. John took his shoes in one hand, rustled in the grate and waited at the door for Margaret who brought the candle with her. He closed the

door, took her hand and led her upstairs

_And here, my dear friends, this story ist told, I'm afraid. As you have noticed for sure my topic of interest is the relationship of the happy young couple, how it_

develops and how both feel with that. I hope that you find my development of characters not only interesting but as well comprehensible; be assured that I

tried very hard to show the reasons and motives why things at least worked out like they did. Of course I hope that you enjoied sharing some of the

pleasantness of the married state too – it is a thin line between being erotic and being tactless and rude and I do hope I hit the right note in my descriptions.

In my opinion their love only could be a passionate one, given their characters, but a very sweet one as well, and if you at this point feel the same I should be

rather proud and happy. I tried to give the newly weds at least some moments of humour, especially John whom I imagine to be simply irresistible when

joking! To be honest I trusted in Dorothy Sayers who wrote "Love always should make her bed with laughter …" (Sayers, Dorothy: Busman's Honeymoon),_ a_

fact I believe to be more than true in literature as well as in real life! 

_As I'm a woman this story obviously is a bit on the "John-side", a fact never intended and fought against when I realised it. But although the greater part is_

told from his POV I think Margaret nevertheless proved to be the strong, spirited and – for her time – liberated woman Mrs. Gaskell first introduced to us.

_So, I hope this story works for you – it sure does for me and wirting it had been a great pasttime._


End file.
